The Potter Twins and the Philosopher's Stone
by InkedRose
Summary: (NON-CANON) - Aralynn Weasley grew up surrounded by a loving family, never thinking anything could have been out of the ordinary. She is excited to start her schooling as a witch at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but when she meets a black-haired boy with an identical scar as hers, she begins to question everything she has ever known.
1. The Twins Who Lived

It was a peaceful Halloween night in the countryside of Devon, England until a loud rumbling from the skies woke the grounded men and women in the villages below. They stumbled in an exhausted stupor to peer towards the clouds with their sleep-glazed eyes. However, when nothing was to be seen, and the motor-like growl faded from their ears, they dawdled back to their bedrooms and returned to the conscious-stealing warmth of their beds. The growl came again, but now overhead a different village in a different area of Devon, and the cycle of lethargic feet exiting their homes to discover the source of the noise was repeated.

Elevated many feet in the atmosphere, there was a large, bearded man riding a powder-blue motorcycle through the sky. Both the man and the levitating vehicle were hidden away from the view of men and women below, by the clouds that hung lazily in the sky. The man burst through the puffs, to a clear section in the sky, with no fear of being spotted, as there was nothing below but rolling hills of green. Attached to the motorcycle, there was a small cart being used as a makeshift passenger's seat. Nestled inside of the cart were two blanketed bundles. The large man operating the vehicle leaned over the side to gaze down at two sleeping faces of infant twins. Each infant had tufts of hair poking out from their blankets—one with black hair, and the other with red. Each of these infants, however, sported an identical lightning bolt-shaped scar above their right eyebrow. The man was visibly relieved to see that, unlike the villagers; the infants had not been disrupted by the frightening guttural sound of his motorcycle, but rather lulled by it.

As the vehicle descended towards the ground, it began to sputter and groan in protest, but this did not seem to bother, nor alarm, the driver. The wheels hit against the ground with a great thud that rocked the entire structure. Now safely grounded; the man directed his motorcycle to drive past a wooden sign painted white with an overlying layer of scrawled handwriting, which read 'THE BURROW.' After several moments of driving through farm-like fields and dirt roads, the vehicle squealed to a stop just a few feet from a home that looked unstable. It was grubby and tall with several tilting towers, and it almost looked as if the structure had been manually enlarged from its once original, tiny state. The man stood from the motorcycle, revealing his massive height, and equally as massive width. He sported long, wild, waist-length brown hair and a long, scraggly beard that he could tuck into his belt. His eyes, as they peered through his goggles, were black and beady. He took exactly twelve large steps before reaching the door to the home.

He placed three heavy knocks upon the moaning wood, and moved his goggles to rest upon his head while he awaited an answer. From the opposite side of the door, hands fumbled with the locks, then pried the heavy door open to reveal a short, plump woman with vicious red hair. She looked up to the man, not with trepidation, but with delight. "Hagrid!" her high-pitched voice squeaked. "How lovely it is to see you again. What brings you here on this very late, but lovely night?"

"Good evenin', Molly," greeted Rubeus Hagrid. "A very good evenin' at that," he said as he gave a solemn gaze to the indigo sky, "a very good evenin' full of frightful business. That's why I've come, ya see. Summat terrible has happened."

Molly Weasley furrowed her eyebrows up at him. "What is so frightful that it would bring you to my doorstep at half past midnight?"

Hagrid removed the goggles from his forehead, and fumbled with them nervously. "Dumbledore sent me," he began, then proceeded to lower his voice, "it's Lily an' James, Molly. They've—well—they've been murdered."

_"Murdered?"_ Molly mocked incredulously. There was a sense of disbelief in her expression until it began to harden and sag with overwhelming sadness and grief. "Oh…" was all she could manage to say.

The bearded giant watched the woman with an equal amount of sadness in his eyes. The plump woman, near to tears, momentarily forgot the morose swelling in her chest when she noticed the cart attached to Hagrid's motorcycle. "What have you got there?"

"That's why Dumbledore sent me," he answered and turned his great body to look longingly at the cart.

Molly gave the cart a confused look before her expression was shrouded with shock and fear. "Lily and James had twins!" she cried. "Are they… gone, too?"

Hagrid shook his head several times. "That's why I've come. You-Know-Who tried to kill 'em, as well, but summat strange happened. When he tried to kill 'em, they ended up jus' fine. Lost all his power, though, yes he did. The kids were left with these funky lookin' cuts on their foreheads. I'm thinkin' they'll scar up real nice."

"How can that be?" the woman questioned, looking appalled, yet relieved, "no one has ever survived the Killing Curse."

"I know it, and Dumbledore does, too, but he can't seem ter wrap his head 'round it. Lily an' James left a note sayin' if anythin' were ter happen, that you an' Arthur be contacted. 'Suppose they knew somethin' was comin'… Dumbledore followed their note, and that's why I'm here. He wants you to take one of 'em in as your own."

"One of them," Molly reiterated. "Why would Dumbledore ever want them separated?"

"Can't say for meself, but I know he wants 'em separated. They're gonna be famous, we all know it, and he doesn't want 'em 'round that life. He thinks it's best if they grow up not knowin' each other, and not knowin' about what happened tonight!" Hagrid answered, "but I know that's what he's doin' and we gotta trust his judgment."

"Yes, of course," Molly agreed quietly. "What will happen to the other? Every man, woman, and child in our world will know their names."

"One of 'em is goin' ter live with their aunt and uncle. The Dursleys—they're Muggles. That'll keep 'em nice and private, yes it will," Hagrid said as each corner of his beard perked up into a smile. "Whichever one yeh take in will need more protection. Dumbledore knows that yeh'll do a fine job."

"I'm so grateful for Albus's faith in me," Molly said to herself, before looking to Hagrid. "I'll gladly take one of them in, of course. I would take them both, if I could. What are their names?"

"Harry an' Aralynn," he said. "I'll get 'em both for yeh. You can choose whichever one yeh want," he said. With that, Rubeus Hagrid took twelve large strides back to the motorcycle, scooped both bundles of blankets into his arms, before returning to Molly at a more leisurely pace. He held out each of his arms to her to show her the children. "This one's Harry," he said and gestured to the blue and green bundle with his nose. "An' this one's Aralynn," he said as he gestured to the red and pink bundle. "Beautiful, aren't they?"

"Absolutely," said Molly, breathless. "They look so much like Lily and James."

"Harry looks like James, an' Aralynn looks like Lily. The red hair just brings it all together."

The woman let out a heavy sigh. "As much as I want to take them both, I will take Aralynn. If Dumbledore wishes for me to take one of them in as my own, it would be best to take her in. She could easily pass off as a Weasley."

Hagrid nodded a few times. "I s'pose I'll be takin' this little tyke here on down to Surrey," he said and smiled over to Molly. "I'll be seein' yeh soon, Aralynn," he told the baby, and gazed down at the red and pink bundle of blankets. The giant sniffled as tears rolled down his beard. "Be a good little girl."

The short and plump woman smiled up at the giant for a moment. "You'll see her in no time, I promise," she reassured and brushed some of her curly, red hair behind her ears. "You can always come around for tea, if you'd like, but if you want to remain distant; you'll be reunited when she starts her first year at Hogwarts."

"Best of luck to yeh both," said the man as he nodded and strode back over to his motorcycle.

"Have a good evening, Hagrid!" Molly called and waved him off as she backed into the Burrow and shut the door behind her. Soon enough, the roaring from the engine of Hagrid's motorcycle would once again wake the villagers.

Molly gently rocked the sleeping infant in her arms as she looked down at her with happiness glittering in her eyes. "You're such a pretty little thing," she said to her in a soft voice.

Footsteps began to descend the several flights of the stairs towering up into the Burrow. A tall, somewhat thin man with balding hair came down and looked at Molly before arching a red eyebrow at the bundle of blankets in her arms. "What's going on, Molly?" he asked.

"Hagrid stopped by," she answered, seeming mesmerized by the baby.

"From Hogwarts?" Arthur Weasley questioned as he peered out the window of the house. "What brought him here so late, and in the middle of the school year?"

Suddenly, Molly looked solemn. "Lily and James Potter are dead," she said and turned her head to look at him. "Dumbledore wanted us to take in one of their twins. I would have taken in both, if I could."

"You never go against the word of Albus Dumbledore," Arthur said and stood by Molly to look down at the baby, smiling sheepishly. "You took in their daughter. What is her name?" he asked as his fingers twirled around her tufts of red hair.

"Aralynn," Molly answered before she paused. "I remember Lily telling me about the twins. Harry's middle name is James, and Aralynn's is Nicole."

"It seems that she is going to fit in well with our family," Arthur said with a smile. "Her red hair works well with the rest of us."

"Oh, yes, of course it does," Molly agreed.

"We will have to tell Charlie, Bill, and Percy. Fred and George are still too small to understand," he said as his attention was drawn to the stairwell by the cries of the newborn Ginevra Weasley.

Molly handed Aralynn to Arthur and went up the stairs as quickly as her legs would allow. "Of course Ronald and Ginny are never going to figure out the difference," he said down to the sleeping bundle with a smile on his face. "Not until we're ready. I will do everything I can to keep you safe, Aralynn. I hope you realize that someday."

From the middle section of the Burrow, Molly's soothing voice could be heard as she tried to coax Ginny back into sleep. Arthur began to move up the stairs cautiously with the bundle in his arms. "I will protect you from the fame, and anyone who dares to hurt you."

Molly and Arthur met one another outside of Ginny's room and together they looked down at the baby. "Is Ginny alright?" he asked.

"Yes, she is. Had a nightmare, I presume, but I got her to go back to sleep rather easily. Where will Aralynn sleep?"

"She can sleep in Ron's room with him. They'll have to be passed off as twins. I'll get her one of Fred and George's old cribs," Arthur said and he laid the baby down in Molly's arms, and then disappeared down the stairs.

The plump woman traveled up several more flights of stairs, soon reaching the top of the Burrow, and entered a very orange room plastered with posters of the Quidditch team known as the 'Chudley Cannons'. In a crib that was painted white, lay an infant boy with his little blankets pulled up to the bottom of his ears, with the top of his head with his fuzzy red hair sticking out. Molly smiled over to the sleeping boy as she rocked Aralynn in her arms.

Arthur soon came into Ronald's bedroom with an old crib and mattress to fit. He set them down, set the mattress firmly along the structure, then took the sleeping girl from his wife's arms. He lay her down on the mattress, and adjusted her blanket to be wrapped around her more tightly.

Together, Molly and Arthur Weasley gaped down at the eighth addition to the Weasley children. "Do you think we can shield her from the fame?" the woman asked her husband.

"I do," Arthur answered and brushed his fingertips along the infant's cheek. "She will one day discover what is lying ahead of her."

On that fateful night, Aralynn Nicole Potter became Aralynn Nicole Weasley, and her life transformed forever. No one could tell what was going to become of the Twins Who Lived. The struggles, the pain, the love, and sacrifice lying ahead of them, to be hushed away until the time came for the truth to be revealed.


	2. Nine Years Later

When the early-morning sunlight streamed through the open windows, it illuminated the orange room to look as though it had erupted in flames. A stray beam from the glimmering sun fell upon a young girl's face, causing her eyelids to flutter open, and squint at the shock of the blinding glow. She turned her back to the windows before she sat up and rubbed her tired eyes. She pushed her red hair from her face and looked around the room. In a sudden moment, her expression brightened. She leapt from her bed, and ran to an identical one across the room. The girl flung herself onto a sleeping lump, climbed on top of it, and began shaking its structure with vicious excitement. "Ronald!" she cried as she tried to jolt him awake. "Ronald, wake up!"

However, he gave her an unconscious grunt of protest and tugged at his blanket to cover his red-haired head. The girl climbed off of him with a huff, and sat on her own bed to deliberate her next move. She rubbed her chin, as though she were a thoughtful philosopher with a beard. A mischievous grin spread across her face, and she stood to creep to the opposite bed. She leaned down, moving her lips directly next to his ear, took a large breath inwards, and screamed: "RONALD, WAKE UP! THE CHUDLEY CANNONS ARE HERE!"

Ronald Weasley snapped upward in his bed with eyes open, crazed, and red from sleep. He looked back and forth frantically. "Where?" he demanded, "I need to get Galvin Gudgeon's autograph!"

When he realized that what forced him awake was an entire fabrication, he shot a smug expression to the culprit. "Thanks a lot, Aralynn," he grumbled. "I really thought Galvin Gudgeon was here."

Aralynn offered an innocent smile, and said, "if not Gudgeon, who else?"

"Dragomir Gorgovitch," Ron yawned. "He holds the record for most Quaffle drops in a season. It may not be a good record, but it's a record."

"Is that your dream job, then? Ronald Weasley: Chudley Cannon Chaser, and notorious Quaffle-dropper!"

Ron gave her a dark look and pushed her over on the bed. "Why did you wake me up? I was having a very nice dream, and now my chances of ever kissing Indira Choudry are gone."

"_Indira Choudry_?" Aralynn gasped dramatically, "but what would _Galvin_ say?"

"Shut up," the boy grumbled in response before curling up under his blanket again, placing one of his pillows over his head. "Back to sleep I go."

"No!" Aralynn shouted, jumping on top of her brother. "You have to wake up, and stay awake, Ron! It's absolutely crucial!"

He groaned for a long time before pushing Aralynn off of him again. "Why?" he asked, "who died? I want to go back to sleep! I don't even know what time it is!"

"It's nine o'clock," she said, "and no one died," she added with a shove, "but some _were_ born today."

Ron gave her a dumbfounded look, but his expression slowly shifted with the realization. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "That's right, it's our birthday—happy birthday, Aralynn!"

"And to you, good sir," she responded in a scholarly tone.

"You're _old_."

"I am not!"

"Old woman," Ron grinned.

"If I'm old, then what are you?" she hissed, pushing him playfully. "We're twins, Ronald. If I'm old, you're old, too."

"I am flowering with youth!" he replied as he crawled out of his bed. He dropped to his knees and crawled under the bed, rummaging through items beneath the frame; making it obvious that he was looking for something.

Aralynn leaned over the side of the bed, watching his feet and legs shift around as he dug through the mess. "Uh, Ron?" she questioned, "what're you doing?"

"Looking for something," his muffled voice responded.

"Looking for what?"

"Something…"

"Which is what?"

"This," Ron replied as he scooted out from underneath the bed. In his hands, there was a lengthy leather-bound book. "It's your birthday present. I thought you might like it."

"What is it?" she asked, taking the book within her arms.

"Memories," he told her.

Aralynn furrowed her eyebrows, glancing up to him before looking back down to the book. She ran her fingers over the bindings, and pulled the front cover away from the first page. When she looked down, the page revealed a photograph of herself as an infant, asleep in her crib. She turned the page, seeing another photograph of herself as an infant, only this time, she and Ron were lying together on a red and pink plaid blanket outside of The Burrow with their mother sitting directly next to them. The third page shared a photograph of their second birthday, where Ron is sitting in a handcrafted highchair with frosting smeared along his face. Aralynn, in the photograph, is in an identical highchair, taking some of the cake from Ron's plate. As she continued to flip through the pages, she watched a lane of her life pass by. This book was documentation of her adventures throughout the years. The last page, before the rest of the book was left blank, was a moving photograph. The picture was of Aralynn and her father dancing together at Christmas. She was wearing a navy-blue dress with a white sash tied in a bow around her waist, white flats, and a white headband. Aralynn smiled down at the photograph and touched the page admiringly. Even though she received very few presents that year, it was one of the best.

Aralynn looked up to Ron and gave him a thankful smile. "I love this," she told him as she leaned over to hug him tightly. "Now I can add to it throughout our years at Hogwarts. I'm never going to let this go."

"I'm glad you like it," Ron replied as his ears reddened with embarrassment. "It's not lame, is it?"

"No," she smiled, "no, it's absolutely wonderful. I have a present for you, too."

Before either of them could say anything more, their mother began to holler from the base of the home, up several flights of stairs in their abnormally tall house. "Ron; Aralynn!" she called, "come down for breakfast, please!"

Aralynn stood excitedly. "I'll give you your present after breakfast," she said and grabbed her brother's hand, lifting him to his feet, and tugged him down the stairs. They trampled down together, and then plowed into the kitchen, where their other siblings were sitting around a table stockpiled with various breakfast foods.

"Happy birthday, darlings," Molly Weasley said, and walked over to cup her children's cheeks within her palms. "Eleven years old. It's so hard to believe! I remember when you were both little babies—as if it were just yesterday."

"We haven't grown too much, have we?" Aralynn asked.

"Far too much!" she exclaimed, sniffing away the tears forming in her eyes. "You were so young, and so sweet, and now you're all grown up!"

"Not quite yet," she responded, giving her mother a small smile. "Even when I'm considered an adult, I'm always going to be your little girl, Mum, and Ron will be your little boy—even if he won't admit it. We would never want it to be any other way."

"Don't bring me into this," Ron grumbled at her quietly.

"It's _our_ birthday, Ronald. You're included in everything."

"You're such an angel," Molly said, kissing the top of Aralynn's head.

Instants later, a loud explosion-like noise rang from the table, and when Molly looked over to inspect the source of the noise, she saw her elder twin sons, Fred and George, eating peacefully, though their faces blackened from said explosion. "You two," she pointed her index finger, "are not angels."

"Of course we are!" Fred exclaimed.

"Can't you see the halos?" George asked.

"We're heaven-sent!" they said in unison.

"If you two are heaven-sent, then heaven is one _hell_ of a place," she said in a hard tone, though there was no sincerity to her words. Molly Weasley loved her sons, as mischievous and aggravating as they were.

"Thank you!" Fred and George both beamed.

Aralynn moved to take her seat at the table, picking at the eggs on her plate with her fork. It was only ten o'clock in the morning, and it was already the perfect birthday for her. She didn't need a cake, or presents, or anything ridiculously extravagant. All she needed was to be surrounded by her happy, smiling, and dysfunctional family.

The door nearest to the table opened; and a tall, redheaded man with a pointed brown hat upon his head walked into the house with a few items under his arm. "'Morning, Weasleys!" he called out to all of them.

"'Morning, Dad!" all of the children responded.

"Good morning, dear," Molly greeted her husband, giving him a simple kiss on the cheek before she returned to cleaning dishes.

Arthur ambled over to Aralynn, and gave her a kiss on the top of her head, then went to Ron with a second kiss to the head. "Happy birthday, Little Reds," he said, and took his place at the head of the table, "finally eleven years old, and ready to attend Hogwarts."

Ron's ears went hot with embarrassment, mumbling a quiet 'thank you' to their father. Aralynn giggled behind her hand while he sunk into his seat.

"Thank you, Dad," she told him with an unchangeable smile. She loved when her father referred to her by her longtime nickname of 'Little Red'. Even though each of the family members was red of hair, Aralynn often received various nicknames—as did they all.

Arthur Weasley leaned over the table and offered an envelope to the girl and an envelope to the boy. They took them from his hands, opened them, and looked at the scratchy handwriting on the front addressed to them. Aralynn flipped her envelope around to see that the stamp was a dragon.

"It's from Charlie!" she exclaimed.

She broke the seal and unfolded the parchment to reveal more scratchy handwriting. All of the words were addressed to her, which, for some reason, made her feel special.

* * *

'_Dear Fire Head,_

_Happy birthday—I hope it's exciting for you to turn eleven today. I expect that you'll be receiving your acceptance letter to Hogwarts shortly. Now that you're eleven, you're officially old enough to attend the school. Hogwarts was a wonderful time for me, and I hope it's equally as wonderful for you. It's the doorway between adolescence and adulthood, where you discover your purpose, and who you are. Though, I think you may already know your purpose in life. You have a conscious head on your shoulders, and I know you'll be okay, no matter where life takes you._

_Mum and I have been writing back and forth, discussing what your life at Hogwarts will be like. She's insistent that you're going to be sorted into Gryffindor. She says it's a Weasley Family tradition, but I can't say I agree. You're brave, yes, that's undeniable, but you're also intelligent and witty, loyal and hardworking, but also ambitious and cunning. You're a perfect mixture of all the houses, but I could see you as a fine Slytherin. When I told Mum this; she was absolutely livid. She insisted that you'd never be sorted into a house of such evil. Aralynn, always remember that Slytherin is not an evil house. It has a bad reputation because of the members who have shuffled through there—they have taken the teachings of Salazar Slytherin, and twisted them into something dark and demented. Slytherin is the House of Evil People, but not the House of Evil. Remember that, will you? There have been plenty of good people to come from Slytherin, and I'm sure you'll meet them, or at least hear of them, one day._

_I wanted to come home for your and Ron's birthday, but we recently got a new dragon, and he's particularly disobedient. Romania has been such an interesting place to live, and I'm sure you'll love it when you can come to visit. Mum and Dad have been planning to come and see me, but as you know, money is tight. They're going to do what they can, when they can. You'll love the dragons, and I can't wait to see you, Fire Head. For your birthday, if I've enchanted three galleons to cling to the bottom of this letter. Spend them on something nice for yourself, will you?_

_I hope to see you soon, Aralynn. I miss you. _

_Love always,_

_The Dragon Tamer._'

* * *

Aralynn looked down to the letter and detached the three galleons Charlie gifted her. She studied them in her palm, and then looked up to her father. "He sent me three galleons. He wants me to spend them on something nice for myself, but I think they should go towards whatever supplies we will need from Diagon Alley," she said, offering them to Arthur.

"You ought to take his advice, Little Red," he said, but took the coins regardless. "You could always buy a pet with them."

"Supplies for Hogwarts are more important," she insisted. "If there's anything left over, I'll use that to buy something for myself—a pet, or maybe an ice cream from Florean Fortescue's."

"That's very humble of you," Molly said. Her expression told everyone that she was very proud of herself for how she raised her children.

"You could get an owl!" Ron exclaimed. "You should get an owl. I'll be stuck with Percy's hand-me-down rat."

"Scabbers, thank you very much, is a fine rat," Percy scolded. "He's been in the family for years, and you should be grateful I gave him to you, at all."

"Oh, _yeah_," Ron said sarcastically, "_thanks_."

Percy opened his mouth to retaliate, but Molly intervened by setting a birthday cake atop the table. "You two quit your bickering. It's a very special birthday."

"Happy birthday to you both," Percy said, then placed his nose back into the _Daily Prophet_ newspaper he had been reading in silence.

"Thank you, Percy," Aralynn and Ron responded simultaneously.

Aralynn then smiled up to her mother. "You didn't have to bake a cake, Mum."

"Why are you trying to eat our birthday, Aralynn?" Ron hissed, lightly kicking her from under the table; which rightly earned him a scowl from his sister.

"Of course, I did!" Molly squawked, as though outraged. "You have to have a cake on your birthday! A birthday is never complete without a birthday cake."

"Oh, alright," Aralynn laughed.

Molly placed eleven candles into the cake and lit each of them with a wave of her wand. "Go on," she encouraged, "blow them out, you two—and make a wish!"

Aralynn took Ron's hand as they turned their attention to their birthday cake, and looked between each of the candles' flames. They took a deep breath inward, then blew all of them out in one try. As their mother had encouraged them to do, Aralynn made a wish—and she hoped Ron did, as well. She wished for happiness, health, and safe passage to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


	3. A Little Piece of Heaven

Birthday celebrations for Ronald and Aralynn Weasley were held throughout the day. From the consumption of cake—the opening of presents—to dancing while old tunes played on the radio. For Aralynn, it was a day of absolute perfection. When the celebratory mood began to fade away, and it grew later in the day, Ron and Aralynn went for a walk throughout the land owned by the Weasley family. They traveled around together, side-by-side, enjoying the early-spring breeze. When they reached their favorite spot—a small, circular clearing in the tallgrass—Aralynn began searching through her pockets. She pulled out a small, crinkled photograph and sat beside her brother. "For you," she said, reaching her arm out to offer it to him. "It's your birthday present—it's nothing as special as the scrapbook you arranged for me, but I think it means something—to both of us."

Ronald Weasley took the photograph into his own hand. It was a plain, nonmoving photograph of the two of them. Their backs were turned to the camera, and they were holding hands. It was taken a few years prior. They had been walking through the tallgrass—it was the day they found the spot they were currently sitting in. He looked to his twin sister with a large smile upon his freckled face. "It's brilliant," he told her. "I almost forgot about it. Where did you find it?"

"I've had it all this time," Aralynn replied, scooting closer to him so that she could look down to the photograph, as well. "After Dad took the picture, I asked if I could keep it. I've had it hidden away in one of my drawers. I've always intended to give it to you for one of our birthdays, but I had difficulties separating from it for a long time. I guess, since eleven is such an important age for us both, I decided it was time to part ways with it."

"Thank you," he said softly, sentimentally. "It's great."

"I think it really tells the tale of our closeness," she commented. She took her index finger and circled their bodies in the photograph. "Do you see?" she inquired as her voice grew softer. "We're so close that our shoulders are nearly touching. Our hands are clasped together, and we're walking—just walking. It tells a story, only there aren't words to explain it. There's just a connection—a physical connection that you can just _see_."

"Yeah," Ron nodded thoughtfully. "I see it."

"It meant a lot to me," she told him, "so I figured it would mean a lot to you, too."

"You were right," he agreed, offering her a smile. "I'll keep it with me always."

Aralynn gave her brother a large smile and reached over to wrap her arms around him tightly. He returned the grasp, and the two sat together—in a long embrace.

When they broke away, they laid back in the grass, looking up to the clear blue sky overhead. Aralynn studied its vastness and wondered if it ever ended. She shuffled through the small bag she had been carrying with her and brought out a camera. She stretched her arms in front of her and scooted closer to Ron, touching her head to his. "Another photograph for my book," she said.

They both smiled at the lens, and groaned after the flash had gone off. Once the photograph developed, Aralynn added it to the first blank page in her book. She watched it for a while, smiling to herself. She wondered if Fred and George were as close and Ron and herself—after all, they were both sets of twins.

Once the sun began to melt behind the trees, Ron and Aralynn ventured back to their home. The entire family was gathered together in the living room, reminiscing about the past. The youngest set of twins joined them. Ron sat between Fred and George on the couch, and Aralynn sat upon George's feet. She listened closely as Molly shared a story about her younger sister. As told by Molly, when Ginny was a mere toddler; she performed a bit of accidental magic towards Percy, which resulted in one of his cardigans turning a bright, fluorescent pink instead of its original forest green. Percy, who was sitting in an armchair, looked annoyed at the memory—and Ginny, who was sitting on the floor beside her mother's chair, was flushed with embarrassment.

"I didn't mean to!" Ginny exclaimed. "I hardly remember it."

"I haven't forgotten," Percy stated, snubbing his nose at her.

"Oh, Percy," Molly groaned, exasperated. "It's all in good fun, dear. It was years ago—you need to lighten up.

"That was my favorite cardigan, Mum. I miss it greatly."

"Oh, it's not as if it would fit you anymore," said Mrs. Weasley with a wave of her hand. "Anyhow—let's continue to the memories. Arthur, have you one to share?"

"A fair few," Mr. Weasley agreed with a nod of his head. "Ah, I have a _brilliant_ one," he began. "When Ron and Aralynn were younger—much younger—about four, or five, they were playing out in the snow. It was Christmas, you see—and your mother had them both dressed very nicely, as she likes you all to be on the holidays. Well, I suppose they had found a patch of dirt exposed in the snow. Only—it wasn't dirt, it was mud. Of course, it had been dampened by the wetness. When your mother called them inside; they walked in giggling. We hadn't noticed them come inside, so when we turned around, Mum threw the pudding from her hands. Ron and Aralynn were _completely_ coated in mud. Their little outfits had been destroyed entirely, and Mum was furious. For the rest of the night, she kept mumbling to herself about how troublesome they were. She never was able to get the stains out."

"Oh!" Molly exclaimed. "Yes, I remember that. It was a disaster—you two were _filthy!_ The whole house was a mess for days—and you tracked mud _all_ over the carpets!"

Aralynn covered her mouth with her hands as she tried to contain her laughter. Ron had a small smirk on his face as well, only it was turned towards his lap so that their mother wouldn't notice. Molly, however, did notice. When she did, she burst into a loud tangent. "It was _not_ funny, you two! I spent _so_ much time cleaning the mess you _both_ made!"

"I thought you said these memories were all in good fun, Mum," reiterated Ronald.

"Oh, don't you get started with me, young man!" she huffed while waving her finger at the boy.

Ron's ears reddened—as they often did—and he sunk into the couch. Aralynn smiled between her mother and brother, still choking back the laughter.

"Anyhow," Molly dismissed. "I did have a bit of a laugh."

"Knowing Dad, he probably photographed it," said Aralynn.

"I did!" Arthur assured. "It's in one of our albums. Terribly funny, that photograph."

"It was _infuriating!_" Molly shrilled.

The room fell into silence after Mrs. Weasley's statement. Nevertheless, a few moments later, Aralynn's giggling escaped her throat. Her laughter created an outburst of it—the entire Weasley family erupted with it. The house swelled with joyful, roaring laughter from top to bottom.

When their tittering dulled down, Molly lifted herself from the chair and looked to the clock mantled upon the wall. "Off to bed, children," she ordered. "It's very late."

Hugs and 'goodnights' were exchanged between the members of the Weasley family. They then scuffled up the stairs and into their bedrooms. Ron and Aralynn entered their bright-orange lodgings and crawled into their beds.

Aralynn shifted onto her back, looking up to the ceiling with her scrapbook hugged tightly to her chest. She sighed contently and she watched the shadows of leaves shifting from the trees outside reflected onto her ceiling by the moonlight. She smiled cheerfully as she ran her fingers gingerly along the leather of the book. "This has been the best birthday anyone could wish for," she whispered to herself.

After so long of rethinking the events of the day and night, Aralynn turned onto her side and allowed slumber to wash over her. She dreamed of Hogwarts and the adventures lying before her.


	4. Robes and Snakes

Now that it was the middle of August, it was time for the Weasleys to gather what money they could find and travel to Diagon Alley, where they would be getting supplies for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Burrow was chaotic as the Weasley family members ran back and forth, trying to find as many coins as they possibly could. Arthur ran up and down the stairs, turning over mattresses and scavenging through drawers. Molly emptied every single pot she could. Fred and George dug holes near the chicken coop, where they had been burying coins of different value throughout the entire summer. Percy holed himself in his bedroom, where he counted the money he had been saving throughout his previous school year, and the summer. Ginevra, who was not yet old enough to attend Hogwarts, helped her family scour every item that was able to be closed. Ron and Aralynn removed cushions from the couch, and when a shimmer was seen in the sunlight, Aralynn shoved her hand between the wires of the couch and scooped a handful of clanging coins into her palm. "I found thirteen knuts and six sickles!" she exclaimed, running up three flights of stairs before she slammed into her father. "I found thirteen knuts and six sickles," she repeated and dropped the coins into the pouch her father had been carrying around while searching for money.

"Good job, Little Red!" Arthur beamed, and then turned to continue his frantic search.

Aralynn jogged back down all of the stairs she had traveled up, to rejoin Ron near the couch. "Have you found anything yet?" she asked, glancing to him. "We've done a decent job already, but it's not nearly enough for everything we're going to need."

Ron threw one of the couch cushions down in frustration. "No!" he roared, "no, I haven't found a single thing! Why don't you leave me alone about it?"

Aralynn blinked at her brother in response before knitting her eyebrows together. "Ron, what's wrong with you?" she inquired, "why are you acting like this?"

The boy threw himself down on the couch in exasperation. He rubbed at his eyes irritably—then looked up to her. "It's not fair that you're allowed to get new things, but mostly everything I have is secondhand. I want new stuff, too."

Aralynn frowned, sitting next to him. "I would get secondhand stuff, too, but I'm the eldest girl. Mum and Dad can't really give me George's old robes, and you've already gotten their books."

"It's not fair," Ron grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Aralynn pressed her lips together briefly then wrapped an arm around her twin's shoulders. "When we're in Diagon Alley, I'll buy you something with the galleons Charlie gave me," she reassured.

Though Ron looked defiant to give in to her talk, he glanced to her. "You promise?" he asked quietly.

"I promise," she agreed.

Ron sighed in defeat with a nod. "Alright," he agreed.

Aralynn gave him a smile and nudged him playfully. "Come on," she coaxed, "we should be leaving soon."

Having been bested by his sister, Ronald Weasley stood from the couch and walked into the living room with her, but not without giving her a gentle shove. They stood near the fireplace and watched their family bustle about. Fred and George returned to the house, their hands and knees covered with dirt, but with several bronze coins within their fingers. "We found a few knuts!" they chimed together. "Think it'll help?"

"It always helps," Molly told her sons as she took the coins within her own hands, and dumped them into the sack when Arthur opened it for her. "When will you be leaving?" she asked him.

"In a moment," he answered, knotting the sack towards the opening to tuck into his pocket.

"Can't I come with you, Daddy?" the young Ginny asked. "I want to see Diagon Alley!"

"No, no," he denied. "You're going to stay with your mother and help her around the house. We'll be back shortly."

Ginny stomped her foot angrily. "I want to go to Diagon Alley!"

"You will, Ginny," Arthur replied, "next year, when you're accepted."

"This isn't fair!"

"Oh, hush, dear," Molly cooed as she redirected Ginny to the kitchen. "Will you be taking the Floo Network?"

"Quickest way," Arthur nodded.

His wife paused and fished through the apron tied around her torso. She pulled out eight sickles, offering them to him. "We'll need more after this," she said, "get eight scoops, will you?"

"Of course," her husband agreed as he took the coins from her palm. He then leaned forward to press a kiss to her cheek. "Best be off," he said, gathering his children around the fireplace, "all right, Percy, you first."

Percy nodded and stepped into the fireplace. When his mother held out a flower pot for him, he reached into it and gathered a fistful of silvery powder. The family watched as he held himself proudly, and enunciated, "Diagon Alley!" He threw the powder down and was sent away in a flare of brilliant green flames. Once the flames cleared away, the fireplace stood empty.

Fred—then George—was the next to use the Floo Network to travel to Diagon Alley. When they disappeared in the same green flames, Arthur went through to wait for Ron and Aralynn on the other side. Aralynn waved to Ron with a smile on her face as he disappeared. She then stepped into the fireplace herself. Molly offered her the flower pot, and Aralynn took the last of the powder in her right palm. "Diagon Alley," she said as she threw the powder down to the wood. The flames rose and sucked her away. She traveled through time and space as a blob coalescing with the atmosphere until she regenerated in full, solid form. She took a step forward to see her father and brothers waiting for her. They smiled at her successful transfer.

"Made it through in one piece, huh?" George taunted.

"Thought we might see an arm land before the rest of you," Fred added.

"Not to worry, boys," she grinned triumphantly. "I'm the master."

"Yes master!" they cried together as they began bowing before her with their arms outstretched. Aralynn laughed, pulled her brothers to their feet, and followed behind her father when he began to head for the shops of Diagon Alley.

Though she had heard a lot of different things about it, Aralynn had never been to the Alley, herself. She had always dreamed of it, of course—most magical children do. Diagon Alley was rumored to be beautiful and funky and interesting, and she wanted to witness, firsthand, all that was beautiful and funky and interesting about it. Now that it was her time, and she was old enough to attend the supply runs, she could feel excitement coursing through her veins. This year was directed around her, and that—in itself—was exciting. Never mind the new things she would be receiving; all she could think about were the shops, the people, and the merchandise.

They stepped into the cobblestone alley, and Aralynn's face lit up with awe at the beauty of the area. There were shops lining each side of the alley of all different colors; blues and reds and greens and golds. It was all very mesmerizing for the first-time eyes—even for the returning ones. As they weaved their way between shops, Aralynn stopped to study several items concealed behind different shop windows. There were jars full of animal organs, vials filled to the brim with questionably colored liquids, showcased wands and robes, unsteady stacks of books, and other shimmering trinkets that she would have loved to inspect, and even buy, regardless of whether or not she knew what it was.

"Keep up, Aralynn!" Arthur shouted from the head of the group.

Aralynn looked in her father's direction and jogged to catch up with the rest of them. As much as she wished she could stop and stare and gawk; she knew there was a limited amount of time they had, especially before their start date at Hogwarts. The first of September was in two or so weeks, and it was absolutely vital that they get the supplies they needed before traveling to Platform 9 and to board the Hogwarts Express. However, she studied as much as she could along their walk down the cobblestone roads. "Dad?" she inquired, "where are we going?"

"Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions," he answered. "It's best we get you fitted before going anywhere else. That will be the longest of our trip, and it's important to see that through before shopping for your books and such."

Aralynn nodded in understanding and traveled to stand next to Ron. She gave him a small nudge with her elbow and displayed a wide grin from ear to ear. "Isn't this exciting?" she asked him.

"Brilliant," he muttered sarcastically, "absolutely _brilliant_."

"Are you still irritated from earlier?" she wondered with furrowed eyebrows. "I told you I would buy you something. Ron, please don't be like this."

"_I'm fine_," he replied with a tone that was a little too hard.

Aralynn sighed in defeat and ambled away from him to give him distance. When they stopped in front of an aged shop, that of which was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, Arthur turned to the older half of his children and told them they were allowed to wander Diagon Alley by themselves, so long as they behaved. When Fred and George halfheartedly agreed, Arthur Weasley arranged for the eldest of the current group, Percy, to be their designated 'babysitter' for all intents and purposes. Percy gladly agreed, and walked off with the twins, who were huffing and puffing with mutters of feeling betrayed by their father.

"Come on, children," he said to Ron and Aralynn when he turned to them. Arthur escorted the youngest twins inside of the shop and he glanced back and forth. "Madam Malkin?" he called out, "it's Arthur Weasley, and I've come to get my daughter fitted for her Hogwarts robes!"

"Arthur?" said a high-pitched voice. From the back room, a stout and wide body came bustling toward the register, where the three Weasleys stood. "Arthur Weasley, you are a sight for sore eyes! It's been such a long time since we last met!"

"Indeed, it has," he nodded with a smile. He looked to his children and pulled Aralynn to stand in front of him, with his hands placed upon her shoulders. "Madam Malkin, this is my daughter, Aralynn. She's going to be a first-year at Hogwarts in September, and we don't have any girls' robes to fit her, so we've come to the finest sewing establishment in all of England!"

"Oh, Arthur, you flatter me!" the small woman exclaimed with flushed cheeks. She turned her attention to young Aralynn, looking her over with an unfaltering smile. "Oh, you're absolutely gorgeous! Not to worry, darling, we'll have new robes fitted for you in a jiff!"

Aralynn gave the friendly woman a small smile, and followed behind her when she started to lead her into the back room; where all of her measuring and sewing was done. The silver-haired woman came to a stop and gestured to a small platform for Aralynn to stand on. "It'll make you taller," she said to Aralynn, who was already quite a bit taller than Madam Malkin herself. "It'll make it easier for me to hem the bottom!"

Aralynn obediently stepped onto the platform, as instructed. Madam Malkin gave her another cheerful smile before disappearing into a curtain-protected room. When she returned, she had black cloth, needles, and black thread in her hands. Aralynn watched as she pulled out her wand and muttered something under her breath and began to levitate. The woman floated upward and helped Aralynn put the robe on her body. Afterward, she immediately began pinning the cloth back to fit her shape.

"Are you their only girl?" Madam Malkin asked, if only to make conversation.

"I'm the eldest," Aralynn answered. "Ginny is my sister. She's the youngest in our family."

"Are you excited to be starting Hogwarts?"

"Yes," Aralynn replied with a small smile. "I've heard it's wonderful."

"Oh, yes, it is," the woman responded. "Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster. He's a generous and kind man."

"I've heard that," the girl responded. "My mother and father talk about him a lot. Percy does, too, sometimes, and Ron collects the cards from the Chocolate Frog packages."

"Does he have a card of Albus?"

"I think so," Aralynn replied. "Though, I've never seen it. He likes to keep them hidden away. He's afraid that Fred and George will do something to them."

Madam Malkin let out a hearty laugh. "They are very valuable cards, if you have enough of them."

Aralynn smiled down at her, and watched her with her needle and thread. "Did you go to Hogwarts?"

"Yes," she answered, "I was in Hufflepuff."

Before Aralynn could ask any further questions, Madam Malkin excused herself to the curtain-covered room once again. The bell above the shop door rang, thus indicating someone had either exited or entered. A tall, platinum blond-haired man with a pale, pointed face and grey eyes began to walk towards the room where Aralynn stood alone. As he did, the walking stick in his right hand hit the flooring with a proud thud every few seconds. Beside him was a slender boy with his head held proudly, who bore an uncanny resemblance to his counterpart. When the two came into full view, Aralynn watched them with a nervous feeling twisting in the pit of her stomach.

The elder of the two matched his cold, grey eyes with Aralynn's warm, green ones. The two held a stare before he took exactly three steps forward and now stood only inches away from her. "And who are you?" he asked with a smooth voice like a snake's hissing.

"Aralynn," she replied, "Aralynn Weasley."

"Weasley is it?" he mocked in a tone tinged with disbelief. "I see."

Aralynn narrowed her eyes at the man, and glanced to the boy. "I've told you who I am, now it's only polite you tell me who you are."

"Oh, yes, of course," he replied lazily, "where are my manners? My name is Lucius Malfoy, and this is my son, Draco."

Draco Malfoy said nothing, but made eye contact with the girl, which seemed to be his way of saying 'hello'. The room was silent for a few long moments before he turned towards her. "Hello," was all he said.

"Hello," Aralynn replied, then looked to Lucius Malfoy. The two gave her an uneasy feeling.

Madam Malkin returned from the other room, and began sewing Aralynn's robe without sparing a single glance to the two blond men. She sewed in silence for several minutes, and then said: "Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Malfoy?"

"In fact, there is," he replied haughtily. "My boy needs robes, as his first year at Hogwarts is soon starting. I have his measurements here. All I need you to do is fashion them."

When Lucius Malfoy saw that Madam Malkin was making no effort to oblige to his whim, he then added, and with a venomous tone, "_immediately_."

Madam Malkin's eyes flickered with irritation. "As you can see, Mr. Malfoy, I am currently with a customer. I will be happy to serve you, but you _will_ wait your turn."

"I demand to be served now!" he shouted. When Madam Malkin did not react, Lucius took his cane, and drove the base of it into the floor.

The woman masked her anger with cheerfulness, and turned to him with a bright smile. "I will be with you as soon as I am done with my current customer, sir. Thank you for your patience!"

Lucius began to visibly boil with rage and disrespect. He turned his eyes to Aralynn, and gave her a hard look for several moments. "I will be seeing you again soon, _Weasley_."

Aralynn furrowed her eyebrows at the tone in which he said 'Weasley'. Before she could ask why he enunciated her name in such a way, he turned sharply and led his scowling son away from the two women. Aralynn considered asking Madam Malkin what the issue with Lucius Malfoy was, but she decided it was better if she didn't.

Once the woman finished Aralynn's measuring and pinning, she helped the girl step down from the platform. "Wait up front with your father, please," she asked. "I'll return shortly."

Aralynn returned to her father and brother, only to notice that her father was stewing.

"How was it?" Ron asked.

"Fine," she replied. "Until that blond man and his son came back there. Did you see him?"

Ron nodded. "He and Dad had an argument outside. I couldn't hear what was going on. What did he say back there?"

"He and Madam Malkin argued," she answered, then looked to Ron. "He asked who I was, and when I told him, he didn't seem to believe me. When he was leaving, he said 'Weasley' as if it were some sort of fake identity. It was strange."

"Sounds like it was," Ron agreed.

Once they left the shop and began to move on to their next location, Aralynn kept repeating the conversation she had with Lucius Malfoy in her head. She couldn't understand why he seemed to disbelieve that she was a Weasley. How could she be anyone different? Molly and Arthur Weasley were her parents. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny were her siblings. She had red hair, like the rest of them. How was it possible that he could see her as someone else? She couldn't wrap her head around the answer. She didn't know. She was Aralynn Nicole Weasley, and no one else.


	5. Ollivander and the Ominous Foretelling

Aralynn had been stewing ever since she encountered Lucius Malfoy in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. First of all, she didn't understand why he had spoken to her in such an arrogant manner, and second of all, she couldn't figure out why he had treated her as though she were someone other than herself. The way he said goodbye wasn't sitting well with her. It clouded her mind and distracted her, and kept her from enjoying the beauty of Diagon Alley. They were still walking throughout the alley, stopping in and out of shops, buying what they needed, and leaving the shops again. Aralynn was still contemplating Lucius Malfoy's words when she bumped into her father. He looked down at her, giving her a wide smile and gestured for her to go inside.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking to the dimly lit, spooky shop. "Dad, I don't think anyone is in there."

"This is Ollivander's Wand Shop," Arthur told her. "The finest witches and wizards have gotten their wands from Ollivander's, including all of us. You need a wand, and there's no better place for you to get one. Go inside."

"I think it's empty," she said.

"It's not," Arthur reassured. "Go on, Mr. Ollivander won't hurt you."

"I have to go in by _myself?_" she asked incredulously, giving the shop a skeptical look.

"Mr. Ollivander doesn't like more than one person inside at a time. He says that it disrupts the process. I promise, you'll be okay, Aralynn."

Aralynn looked up at her father, then to the shop apprehensively. She took a few steps forward and slowly pushed the creaking door open. An old bell rang from the top of the door and she walked up to the counter. The door slammed behind her, which caused her to jump and yelp in fear. She swung around to see what had caused to noise, but found herself staring at the simple door. "Calm down, Aralynn," she muttered to herself. "Calm down, there's nothing scary about this shop. It's just old, and dusty, and… musty."

The girl walked forward, looking back and forth nervously. The shop was still and quiet. The air rolling around inside was chilled and littered with dust. The shelves were tall, and some were knocked over. There were long, black boxes resting on the shelves that had fallen on the floor, had turned over, and had rotted due to water dripping from the ceiling. The smell of the building was almost nauseating. Aralynn rubbed at her forearm, looking between the shelves; looking for any sign of human life. She felt her skin crawl, which caused coldness to swirl down her spine, and she shivered. The overall feeling of the building was extremely uncomfortable. "Hello?" she whispered, looking between the shelves. "Hello, my name is Aralynn Weasley, and I need my wand."

There was no answer, however, and she wasn't surprised to receive silence in return. '_Did I not speak loudly enough?_' she thought. The shop remained eerily quiet and still. There had been no movement outside of her own, and she began to feel even more uncomfortable than she previously did because of the stillness.

"Hello?" she called again, but louder this time. A few moments after she spoke, a man with wild white hair appeared in a dark doorway that led to a different room. The two locked eyes. His eyes were squinted and full of curiosity and wonder, while Aralynn's reflected nervousness and fear.

"Hello, little one," he said softly, but loud enough to be heard. He moved forward slowly, almost gracefully, with his eyes studying her as he did. "You've come for your wand, I presume?" he asked.

Aralynn, paralyzed with fear and unable to speak, nodded several times instead. She watched the man circle her like a vulture examining its prey. Suddenly, he moved forward, and cupped her face in his hands. Her body went absolutely still, and she looked into his wide, pale eyes, but he was looking upward—to her forehead. Her hands shook.

The man touched a fingertip to the lightning bolt-shaped scar on her forehead, and then traced his finger along its shape. "Curious," he muttered, still holding Aralynn's face close to his, "how very curious."

"Sir?" her raspy and dry throat croaked. "What's curious?"

"I have been wondering when I would be seeing you in my shop," he answered and released her face as gently as possible. "I have been awaiting your arrival for quite a time, Aralynn. I had expected you to come sooner, but it's no wonder that you've passed here on this day, at this hour."

Aralynn furrowed her eyebrows, not understanding what he meant. She opened her mouth to ask, but her mind suddenly switched courses. "How did you know my name?"

"You're no secret from me," he said, going behind his desk to shuffle through items on the shelves below. "I know exactly who you are, but you may not fully understand that quite yet. That was to be expected."

She watched the top of his wild hair move from behind the counter as he continued to rummage through his things. "I don't understand what you mean," she admitted. "What is it that you mean, sir?"

"Ollivander," he corrected. "My name is Garrick Ollivander, and you may call me as such, Aralynn. We will be great friends, you and I."

"I'm sure," she replied quickly. "Mr. Ollivander, what did you mean? That it's no wonder I've come here on this day, on this hour?"

"In time, child," he answered, though not straightforward. "You will know in time."

"That doesn't help me now…"

"Why are you here? Ah, yes, of course! Your wand! Come, child, we'll find the perfect wand for you," he said and vanished into the disarray of his shelves. She peeked around the corner, and listened to him toss boxes back and forth, turn over the already turned boxes, open some, close some, and shove them out of his way. "Here," he said as he reappeared. "Try this one. It is a ten-inch acacia wand, and its core is hair from the tail of a unicorn, and it is slightly yielding: a fine wand to have."

Aralynn took the wand as he handed it to her. She held it in her hand, looking down at it with a dumbfounded expression. "What do I do…?"

"Oh, yes, yes!" Ollivander waved his arms eccentrically, "give it a flick."

She looked down at it skeptically, but gave it a small flick as instructed. The flick of the wand caused the chandelier hanging from the ceiling to come crashing down and onto the floor. Aralynn stumbled backwards, staring at the chandelier with a horrified expression. "I'm sorry!" she halfway shouted. "I'm so sorry!"

He gave a hearty laugh. "Not to worry, child. This happens quite often," he reassured and pulled out a wand of his own. He waved it over the mess, and Aralynn watched as the chandelier reformed and reattached itself back to the ceiling. Ollivander looked to her expression and looked up to the ceiling with her, "extraordinary thing, magic."

"Extraordinary," she agreed.

"Well, this is not the right wand for you," he said as he took it back from her hand. "Worry not, however, we will find you one."

Again, he disappeared into his jungle of shelves. When he returned, he had a new wand in his hand. "This one is eight inches, made of cedar, with a dragon heartstring core, and it is brittle—a fine beginner's wand. Perhaps this will be the one, yes?"

"Maybe," she nodded, taking the wand from him. She stood there with the wand in her hand and pressed her lips together. She was apprehensive about this one, but she knew that she wouldn't find the right wand unless she tested it. Nervously, she flicked it, and all of the glass in the entire building shattered. She threw her arms over her head to shield herself from the flying shards.

"Definitely not that one!" he exclaimed, waving his wand to put the shop back into its former state. Ollivander took the cedar wand from Aralynn's hand and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. He spared a glance back to her forehead before he began to mutter to himself, and once again, went to ravage through his shelves. The girl stood awkwardly, thinking about all of the damage that could be caused simply due to an improper wand.

From between the rows, Garrick Ollivander's voice could be heard, moving back and forth. "Ivy? No, definitely not. Walnut isn't right, either, no. Willow, ah, yes, willow, if only she knew… holly, perhaps, if she is… yes, holly may do."

She looked over when Ollivander returned with two different wands. He stared at her expectantly, and she returned the look, as he had been giving her information about the wands this entire time. The man caught on and nodded. "Yes, of course," he said, and then offered the one in his left hand. "This is a twelve-inch wand, made of holly. The core is made of Veela hair, and it is very flexible."

The girl sighed, and took the wand. She swished it around and caused boxes of wands to go soaring across the room. She dropped it immediately and looked back and forth, biting her lip, studying the disarray. She began to question if she would ever find a wand. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ollivander."

"Don't apologize, little miss, it's perfectly alright. The wands must be tested in order for it to determine if it is going to work out. You see, the wand chooses the witch, Aralynn, the witch does not choose the wand."

"I see," she said, even though she didn't quite understand. "What's the next one? Maybe it'll be the one?"

"I somehow believe it will be…" he agreed, then handed it to her. "It is a reasonably supple, nine-inch wand, and it is made of willow."

The girl swallowed hard, taking the wand. She held it in her palm and looked down to it. There was a sense of familiarity with it, but she didn't quite know how. A breeze swirled throughout Ollivander's shop and rolled over Aralynn's body. The current of air brushed her bangs from her forehead, and filled her with warmth. She looked up to Garrick Ollivander. "I think it chose me," she told him.

"Now, that," he began, "is curious, indeed."

"I'm sorry—what's curious, again?"

"Wandlore is a tricky thing, little miss, but we've all understood that the wand chooses the wizard, or, in your case, the witch. However, the best results, as we have observed, comes when there is a strong affinity between wand and witch. The two must connect, but for what reason? That's complex for our understandings. You see, I remember every wand I've ever sold Miss… Weasley… and it is curious that this wand would choose you. There is an affinity between you—a past, and a complexity. Some of which, I do understand, but others… That's left for question."

"I'm… not following."

"It is curious that a willow wand would choose you, but even more curious that this wand would choose you with the core it has."

"Which is?"

"A phoenix feather," he replied, "but a very _remarkable_ feather. The feather inside of your wand comes from one particular phoenix, but why it is curious is because this phoenix gave two others feathers for wands, but only two. It is curious that this wand would choose you when of its brothers gifted with you that scar," he explained as he pointed to the lightning bolt-shaped scar on the girl's forehead.

"My scar?" she reiterated and reached up to touch it. "I don't understand."

"No," he agreed, "I don't suspect you do, but you will. Mark my words, you will understand, Aralynn, someday, and hopefully soon. Even so, understand this: you possess great power, young one—power that we all will see one day."

She stared at him for a long time before looking down to the wand. She had questions—so many questions, but within her heart, she knew she would receive no answers. "Ah, how much is the wand?"

"Three galleons," he replied.

Aralynn fished through her pocket and grabbed some of the money her father loaned her before entering the shop. She offered the coins to the owner, but he stared at her for a long time. She continued to hold her hand out for him, and soon enough, he took the coins from her palm and smiled as a 'thank you'. Aralynn nodded slowly, thanked him for her wand, and quickly exited the shop. When she was outside, she looked back to it and frowned. How long was she in there? The thought of her being in there to begin with was enough to make her shiver. She turned to see her father and brother still standing there, waiting.

"How was it?" Arthur asked as she approached.

"Strange," she answered honestly.

"Strange?" Ron repeated.

"You have no idea. He was really creepy, and a little scary."

"Well, what kind of wand did you get?"

"A nine-inch, reasonably supple wand made of willow with a phoenix feather for a core. He said that it was curious that this wand chose me. He said we have a complex connection, and that I'll understand it soon enough."

"What does that even mean?" Ron questioned; looking confused.

"I have no idea."

Arthur Weasley, having been listening to the conversation, suddenly bore an expression of concern. He straightened his back and waved to the children. "Come along," he ushered, "we've done most of the shopping, but we still have one more place to go, and that is for Aralynn's pet. So, Little Red, where would you like to go: Magical Menagerie or Eeylops Owl Emporium?"

"Eeylops," she answered. "I think I want an owl."

"The Owl Emporium it is," he beamed and led them in that direction.

As they walked, Ron nudged his sister. "Are you okay?" he asked. "You've seemed a little bit off since you came out of the wand shop."

"I'm fine," she answered. "I've heard a lot of weird things today, that's all."

"What do you mean? How was it weird?"

"It's complicated," Aralynn sighed. "I've had a lot of people treat as someone I'm not, and I can't say I understand why. It's like they know something about me that I'm missing, which is absurd in itself, but, I don't know, it's odd, and making me paranoid. Is there something about myself that I don't know?"

"I doubt it," he shrugged. "They're probably talking about things you don't understand, that's all. You shouldn't let it wig you out. It's probably nothing."

"Yeah, probably," she agreed halfheartedly. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"Well, then, relax. It's fine."

Aralynn nodded, giving him a small smile. When they arrived at Eeylops Owl Emporium, she walked inside and glanced around. The building was dimly lit and smelled strongly of hay. There was a nonstop chain of chirps as she walked throughout it. Owls rested on perches in cages, some flew overheard; outside of their cages. How was she going to pick? Was it possible for her to make a connection with a bird?

She continued to look between cages, studying the wide eyes that watched as she walked by. They were unalarmed to a see a human so close to them, but skeptical nonetheless. Aralynn looked into a dark corner to see the outline of a body sitting on a perch outside of its cage. She leaned forward and two dark eyes peered back. The owl shifted forward slightly. It seemed to be mimicking her actions. "Hello," she said softly. "My name is Aralynn. You're a very beautiful bird. I'm going to this magical school, and I need a pet. That's why I'm here. Maybe you could be the one?"

She couldn't believe she was talking to a bird, but it seemed to understand. It tilted its head as she spoke and flew off of the perch, and onto her shoulder. She looked up to it, and it looked down to her. "I guess you're willing," she said, carefully making her way to the register.

A female employee looked up from the newspaper in her hands. "Oh, I didn't know anyone was in here," she said. She stood up and looked to the owl on Aralynn's shoulder. "One barn owl," she said to herself as she looked through the pricing pamphlet. "Good luck with her. She's relatively antisocial. She mostly broods in that corner all day and night. We've started to call her 'Incubant,' which translates to 'brooding' in Latin. You can rename her, of course."

Aralynn looked up to the bird and smiled a little bit. "I'm going to call her Amete. It seems like a fitting name, doesn't it?"

"Amete it is," she agreed, "ten galleons."

The girl bit down on her lip and fished into her pocket. Though she didn't have ten galleon coins, she counted out all of her different coins so it would be the equivalent to ten galleons. Aralynn waited as the employee counted the money. When she finished, she looked up and nodded. "Right on, you're good to go."

Aralynn gave her a small smile and walked out of the emporium. As she was exiting, she heard the employee call out to them with, "'bye, Incubant! I mean—bye, Amete!"

When Aralynn was out of the owl emporium, Arthur smiled at the bird and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Shall we go home now, Little Red?" he asked, leading his two children down the path. "How would you like to go home: Floo Powder or Apparition?"

"Can we please Apparate?" Aralynn asked excitedly before pausing. "Actually, before we leave, there's one more thing I have to get."

Arthur nodded. "Yes ma'am," he agreed and followed Aralynn down the path. She entered the shop, Quality Quidditch Supplies, and remained in there for a short few moments. When she returned, Ron was shuffling his feet, looking unhappy. The girl smiled to herself and snuck up to him, bestowing a book detailing the entire history of the Chudley Cannons.

Ron lifted his head and noticed the book in her hands. He looked up to her, his face brightened with excitement. "For me?" he asked, almost in disbelief. "Oh, this is _brilliant!_"

For the first time that day, he spoke 'brilliant' without a trace of sarcasm.

"Of course it's for you," she told him with a shake of her head. "I promised to buy you something, didn't I?"

"You're the best sister ever!" Ronald Weasley exclaimed, holding the book closely to his chest.

As they stood there; Percy, Fred, and George rejoined them from their voyage around Diagon Alley. Percy's expression was swollen with annoyance; while Fred and George held mischievous and accomplished smirks.

"How was the exploration, boys?" asked Arthur Weasley.

"Oh, excellent," George answered.

"Completely disaster-free," Fred added.

Percy shook his head as a decline to answer. Clearly, Fred and George were not as innocent as they claimed to be—then again, no one believed their story of tameness to be true.

Arthur shook his head at the boys and gathered everyone and everything together to be touching. Once it seemed that everything was secure, he began to focus his mind on their home back in Ottery St. Catchpole, and then they felt as though they were contents being stirred in a glass of water. They opened their eyes to see that they were home, in a matter of a few seconds. "Gather your things and start packing," Arthur told him. "Then head to sleep. Hogwarts will be starting soon, and you'll need all of the energy you can get."

The redheaded children nodded and began to trudge everything up the stairs. When they reached the top of the Burrow, they began to unpack the items from their parcels, and then repack them in their trunks for their journey to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Aralynn placed Amete in the cage of their family owl, Errol, but left the door open for her to fly freely. She and her brother worked together to pack their trunks and remind one another of anything they may be forgetting. Once they had finished, they flopped down on their beds and crawled under the blankets to sleep.

Aralynn found that she was unable to sleep, and turned towards her brother's back. "Hey, Ron?" she called across the room.

"Hmm?" he grunted in response, curled up on his bed.

"Are you excited to go to Hogwarts?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Do you think it'll be as wonderful as everyone says it is?"

"Yeah," he yawned.

"I don't know," she sighed. "I'm kind of nervous. What if I don't make friends? What if I'm useless with magic?"

"You'll be fine, Ara."

"Ron?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"What if I'm sorted into Slytherin?"

Ron Weasley, however, had fallen asleep in the short time it took her to ask the question. When she heard his soft snoring from the bed, she turned to stare at the orange wall her bed was pushed against. Several different thoughts were running through her mind, leaving her sleepless and worrisome. While she was alone with her thoughts, she thought about the arrogant Lucius Malfoy and his subtle accusations toward her identity—she thought about the ominous Garrick Ollivander, who, too, seemed to be telling her that she was someone other than Aralynn Nicole Weasley. Was she someone other than who she believed herself to be? She began to wonder.


	6. The Boy with Black Hair

The past few weeks have had the Weasley family in an utter frenzy. Trunks sat in the halls, clothes were thrown askew, and they hollered to each other when they couldn't find something they had been looking for. Now that today was the day where the children needed to be on the train leading to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before eleven o'clock, the Burrow was in absolute chaos. All members of the family were frantic as they jogged up and down flights of stairs, and slammed into one another when they weren't paying attention to where they were going. If someone were to pass by the house at that very moment, they would be sure that there was a menagerie of heavy animals living inside, causing the loudest racket.

Near the top of the Burrow, a blood-curdling scream echoed down the stairs, followed by two voices cackling with amusement. It then sounded as though there was a herd of elephants stampeding to the ground floor. Ron Weasley jumped down from the last few steps and ran to his sister, shoving her in front of him for protection. "Spiders!" he cried, "they came after me with _spiders_, Aralynn! I _hate_ spiders!"

Molly Weasley overheard him and marched right up to the bottom of the stairs and began to scream up all of them. "FRED, GEORGE!" she bellowed, "YOU LEAVE YOUR BROTHER ALONE AND PACK YOUR THINGS! WE NEED TO LEAVE SOON!"

"We haven't done a thing!" Fred's voice called back.

"Nothing, Mother, we're innocent!" George added.

"We're innocent!" they said together.

The mother of the house was visibly aggravated, and she marched back to the stairs again, but when she called up them again, it was not with a howling voice, but an exasperated tone. "Boys, just finish your packing!" she said.

As Molly walked away from the stairs to continue to try and get the rest of her family in order, Ron was still rambling about spiders and his deep hatred for them. When he was three years old, Fred and George had transfigured his teddy bear into a giant spider, and since then, he had been terrified of them. Aralynn turned to him and grabbed ahold of his arms to keep him from waving them erratically while ranting about the spiders. "Ron, calm down," she cooed, "the spiders are gone."

"I'm not going back up there!" he stated. "They probably have them hidden in our bedroom! How can I finish packing when there are spiders in the room, Aralynn? What if they're hidden in my trunk?"

"They're gone," she said again. "I'll go up there with you. We really need to finish packing. We're leaving for Hogwarts today, remember?"

At the mention of Hogwarts, Ron calmed his spider-fueled rage, and replaced the fear with excitement, but laced with nervousness. He agreed to go back into his bedroom with her, but only if she led the way. They then ascended the staircases with Aralynn in lead and Ron cowering behind her. As they made their way to the top of the Burrow, they climbed the all of the stairs and passed by several level sections. Photographs and doors lined the walls, and a plethora of items cluttered the hallways. When they reached the door to their bedroom, Ron had Aralynn check all of the possible areas in which spiders could be hiding outside, and inside, of the bedroom. When she reassured that he was perfectly safe from the eight-legged creatures, they went inside together.

Ron gave the room a skeptical once-over, and then convinced himself that they were, indeed, safe. They lugged their trunks atop of their beds and continued packing clothes and different materials inside of them. Aralynn crawled halfway under her bed and dragged the scrapbook her brother made her for their birthday out from under it. She flagged through the pages before setting it neatly atop her clothes. "I can't wait to add more to it," she told him with a gesture towards the book. "Hogwarts will bring a lot of memories, and the book will hold all of them."

"You like it, right?" he asked. "It took a long time to make. I suffered through a lot of paper cuts, just for _you_, so you'd better like it."

"I love it," she said and shoved him playfully. "I already told you that, dunderhead."

He stumbled backwards from her shove and ended up falling into the depth of his trunk. "Hey!" he scolded, "that was unnecessary."

"Necessary to me," she grinned as she closed the top of the trunk and locked it afterwards. "Hurry up, Ronald!" she told him. "We need to leave soon and you have hardly anything in your trunk!"

"I could've had more if you hadn't pushed me into it," he huffed. He lifted himself out of the trunk and threw a few more things into it, closed it, and locked it. He dragged it off of his bed, and began to drag it out the door once it had landed with a loud thud. "Didn't Dad already have us pack this junk when we got back from Diagon Alley?"

"Yes," Aralynn said as she followed him down the stairs. "Clearly, however, that didn't turn out very well."

Anyone would have known they were coming, as the bases of the trunks hit each stair with great clonking as they descended. When they reached the ground level, they joined their mother, father, younger sister Ginny, and elder brother Percy in the living room. Now that the majority of them were here, they needed to wait on Fred and George to finish whatever it was that they were doing. Aralynn looked to Ginny, who was clearly upset that she was not yet able to join her siblings at Hogwarts. "You'll be there soon," she reassured with a smile. "Then it'll feel like you were never stuck at home, having to say goodbye to us."

"That seems like such a long time away," Ginny replied with a frown upon her face.

"It's not going to be as long as it seems," Aralynn told her. "I started to believe this day would never come, but here it is—staring me in the face. I promise, Gin, this year will fly by."

Ginevra Weasley looked up to her sister with a smile. She leaned forward to embrace her in a hug. "Thanks, Ara," she said. "I appreciate this."

Aralynn returned her hug and nodded. "I'm here for a little reassuring anytime you need me to be."

They shared a smile just as Molly Weasley began ushering all of her children out the door. "Come along, everyone. Your father needs to be off for the Ministry, but he wants to see you all off first. Come on, come on!"

The Weasley family shuffled out the door and gathered around the older model Ford Anglia car parked a short distance from the house. Arthur Weasley went around, hugging his children, and kissing their heads and cheeks. He stepped back from the crowd and tipped his pointed hat to them. "Have a safe journey, Weasleys—I love you!"

They returned his love, and with the blink of an eye, Arthur Weasley had vanished into thin air. Molly then began gesturing for the children to congregate into the car. From the outside, the Ford Anglia didn't seem large enough to seat eight Weasley children. However, when entering the car, it was much larger than its exterior appearance.

"Nice job with the Expansion Charm, Mum," George said as he slid into his seat next to Fred. "It's very roomy back here."

"Is it big enough for you all?" she asked, turning in her seat to look at her children. "Not too cramped?"

"Just perfect," Ginny answered as she shut the door behind her. "We all fit."

"Excellent," Molly beamed with pride. She then turned over the engine and began driving the car down the dirt path.

Ron, who was sitting between George and Aralynn, elbowed his twin gently. "We're finally off to Hogwarts," he said to her. "Can you believe it?"

"The nervousness in my stomach says I can," she admitted. "I'm still afraid that I may be put into Slytherin."

"Just remember what Charlie said, Aralynn: 'Slytherin is the House of Evil People, but not the House of Evil'. Even if you were sorted into Slytherin, you'd be fine."

"You won't have to worry about that," interrupted Molly from the front seat. "I don't believe you'll be sorted into Slytherin. If anything, you would be sorted in Ravenclaw."

It was clear to Aralynn that, just as Charlie had mentioned in his letter, Molly Weasley was very uneasy with the thought of one of her children being sorted into Slytherin, and working under the teachings of Salazar Slytherin. "There's always the possibility, Mum. I think we should prepare for anything that could happen."

"I really am very insistent against this," said Molly.

"I'm sure she'll be sorted into Gryffindor, as the rest of us have," Percy told his mother from the opposite seat in the front of the car. "You have nothing to worry about, Mum."

With a sigh, Aralynn let the discussion drop. She knew that being sorted as a Slytherin was a very distinct possibility, and she couldn't understand why her mother believed that would be so disgraceful. It wasn't disgraceful to be a member of House Slytherin.

The question ached in her mind. She wanted it to be gone; she wanted to think of better things, but the aching refused to cease. The girl was plagued with thoughts of being disowned by her family simply because they were displeased with the house she was sorted into. Emotions began welling in her chest, daring tears to her eyes.

In that moment when tears teased to fall over Aralynn's eyes, Molly cranked back a black lever, and the Ford Anglia ascended towards the sky. The fear and panic evaporated from the girl's chest, now leaving pure, unadulterated excitement. The Weasley mother pressed in a silver button once they were elevated high enough that would cloak the entire car and all of its passengers from the eyes of non-magic folk below.

The Weasleys' journey to King's Cross Station in London passed by with the blink of an eye. Once they were safe in a secluded area without Muggle onlookers, Molly landed the invisible car between the lines of a parking spot, and pulled the silver button out from the socket so that they would come back into view. She quickly emerged from the car, and tottered frantically to the trunk. "Come on, children," she ushered, "we're very, _very_ behind schedule!"

All six of the redheaded children scuttled from the car, gathered their belongings—with a few mistakes of what was whose—lugged their trunks to the trolleys, and began panicked running towards Platform 9¾. Trolleys flying rapidly about and people diving away for their own safety; it was clear that the Weasleys were on a mission.

"Hurry along!" called Molly from the lead. "The Platform is just ahead—oh, we'd get there sooner if these confounded _Muggles_ would MOVE!"

When the signs on the brown-bricked pillar separating Platforms 9 and 10 came into view, the Weasleys slowed their pace and came to a stop just before the column and gathered tightly around it. Molly urged the eldest, Percy, to be the first to cross through the platform. Once he disappeared behind the wall, she turned to her twin boys. "Come along, Fred, you're next."

George and Fred spared mischievous glances before George gestured to his brother with his arm. "_He's_ not Fred, _I _am."

"Honestly, woman, you call yourself _our_ mother," added Fred, pretending as though he were George.

Molly Weasley released a heavy sigh, and gave a defeated nod. "I'm sorry, George."

Fred stepped before the platform and turned a cheeky, playful to his mother. "Only joking," he said, "I am Fred!" he announced. He then ran for the column, before his mother could grab him by the hair, pull him back to her, and smack him upside the head. George followed quickly suit, fearing the same punishment.

Aralynn looked to Ronald and giggled quietly behind her hand at their antics.

_How typical of the boys,_ she thought.

Though she still looked a tad bit aggravated, Molly waved her arm for Ron to come forth. "It's your turn, now, love. Hurry along."

Ron began to run forward, only to halt to a stop when another trolley cut in front of his own. Aralynn looked to see a frail boy with unkempt black hair, green eyes, and large round glasses covering one-half of his face. She glanced over him quickly and felt her body go rigid. A lump was developing in her drying throat, but she couldn't understand why.

"S-Sorry," he stuttered nervously in a meek voice. "I'm a bit lost, and I was wondering if you could… could, well…"

Molly watched the boy with soft eyes, and then glanced to the platform while he gestured unsurely towards it. "Do you need help getting onto the platform, dear?"

The black-haired boy nodded silently; helplessly.

"Don't be embarrassed," she cooed to him in a motherly tone. "You're not the only first-year here looking to get onto Platform 9 ¾. See, what you do is: face the column directly, and head straight for it. If you're afraid, you best give it a bit of a run. It'll ease your nerves."

The boy looked from Molly Weasley to the column uneasily. He inhaled a long and deep breath and bore an expression of determination upon his face. Before he raced onto the platform, he turned to the Weasley mother and flashed a smile. "Thank you very much," he said politely, ran off, and sunk into the column.

"Sweet boy," Mrs. Weasley remarked to herself before turning back to her remaining two children. "Ron; Aralynn—time to go. It's nearly eleven."

Ron turned to his sister, who was staring vacantly at the spot where the unnamed boy had been standing, and gave her a gentle nudge. When she met his eyes, he gestured towards the pillar with the top of his head. "We need to go."

"Of course," Aralynn replied hoarsely, but Ron had been too distracted to notice. He looked at the entrance to the platform anxiously, but entered it anyway.

She said her goodbyes to her mother, and followed after her brother as quickly as she could. When she crossed through the barrier, and arrived on the other side, she looked up to a red and black train, smoking as it waited to depart. Her lower jaw dropped in awe as she walked leisurely towards the assistant, who was packing the trunks into one of the train's compartments.

She snapped from her daze when she heard her name being shouted through the loudness of the platform. She looked towards the source of the voice to see Ron leaning halfway off of the train from the entrance. Aralynn ran over, and they boarded the train together. They walked down the narrow aisles from car to car, but none of the compartments were empty. Finally, Ron peered through the glass of one of the doors to see the same black-haired boy from earlier sitting by his lonesome. "Come on," he said to his sister, "there's nowhere else."

Aralynn spared a glance into the compartment and felt her throat go dry again. "Anywhere but here," she whispered to him. "Ron, _please_."

"Everywhere else is completely full, Aralynn," he told her. "Don't be a nutter."

She looked back through the glass and sighed in defeat. "Fine," she replied sharply.

He rolled his eyes and slid the door open. "Excuse me—d'you mind if my sister and I sit with you? There are no free compartments."

"No!" the boy exclaimed eagerly. "No, please, come in."

Ron gave him a thankful smile, grabbed Aralynn by the wrist, and pulled her into the compartment with him. They took the seats directly across from the boy and looked to his smiling face.

"I'm Ron," said Aralynn's brother. "Ron Weasley, and this is my twin sister—Aralynn."

"It's great to meet you," the boy told them with a nod of his head. "I'm Harry Potter."

Ron and Aralynn Weasley gave one another a shocked looked. Slowly, Ron turned his head back to Harry with wide eyes. "No kidding!" he halfway shouted. "_You're_ Harry Potter—_the _Harry Potter—the boy who lived?"

Harry looked to the window thoughtfully. "I suppose I am, yeah."

"Is it, true, then—the scar, I mean? Do you really have it?"

Harry pulled back the back from his forehead, revealing a lightning bolt-shaped scar above his right eyebrow. "It's true!"

When Aralynn saw the scar upon Harry's forehead, her face drained of all color. How was it that she had the exact scar, shape and all, above her right eyebrow; as the famous Harry Potter—the boy who lived? When she was young, and first discovered the ugly thing upon her forehead, she went straight to her mother and asked her how to make it go away.

"_It'll never go away,_" Molly told her, "_but, if you'd like, we can cover it with makeup. You can hide it away from everybody, if that's what you want to do. You should remember, though, Aralynn—that scar will always be with you. It's part of who you are as a person._"

From that moment on, Aralynn had hidden the hideous scar with layers and layers of makeup. Her own twin brother had never noticed she had it, but there it was now, staring directly at her from Harry Potter's forehead. She wanted to vomit.

"That's totally wicked," Ronald remarked with a smile on his face.

"It's always been there," Harry told him. "I never really thought it was special until recently—a bit wonky, sure, but never special."

"It's definitely special," nodded Ron. "Isn't it, Ara?"

Aralynn nodded slowly and weakly. There were absolutely no words in her throat at the current moment. She still wanted to vomit.

Harry looked to her and knitted his eyebrows together. "Er—Aralynn—are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she managed to croak out. "A bit motion-sick, I think."

He looked to see an elderly woman stopped outside of their compartment, pushing a three-tiered trolley packed with sweets. "Do you need something to eat?"

She shook her head. "Our Mum packed us some sandwiches for the trip."

Ron shuffled through his pocket and pulled out crumbled sandwiches wrapped in cellophane with a bleak expression. "She's so thoughtful; Mum."

Harry Potter looked to the sandwiches and pressed his lips into a thin line. When the woman opened the door to the compartment and asked if they wanted anything from the trolley, he pulled out a handful of golden galleons from his pocket. "We'll take the lot!"

Ron and Aralynn both gawked at the mound of coins in his palm. Collectively, it was more money than they had ever seen before. It was a beautiful, yet jealousy-inducing sight.

The three of them gathered the treats into their arms and piled them onto the seat that Harry was sitting on, and sat next to him. Aralynn sat warily away as the two boys began devouring the candies. She was still feeling sick—not from the motion of the rain, as she had lied, but because of that scar on Harry's forehead. Unanswered questions raced through her mind.

They began talking and growing closer to friendship as Aralynn sat and watched them in silence. She wanted to join in the merriment, but she felt physically unable to muster any cheer. She wanted to break down and interrogate Harry—why did she have the same scar as him? Why did she feel so connected to him? Why did she feel odd while in his presence?

Lost in her own thought, she hadn't noticed when Ron began attempting to gain her attention. Finally, when he punched her in the arm, she turned to with him a dark glare. "Why did you do that?" she demanded angrily.

"You were ignoring me! I was trying to get your attention!"

"What do you want, Ronald?"

"I wanted to know if you were okay. You've been staring into space the entire time we've been on the train. You should join in on the conversation."

"I'm not feeling very talkative right now."

"What's wrong? I can tell there's something wrong with you."

Aralynn thought of a lie as quickly as she could. "I'm nervous about starting Hogwarts. The closer we get, the more my stomach knots."

Ron put a hand upon Aralynn's shoulder. "It's going to fine, Ara—it's going to be great. It's going to be the most magical thing we've ever experienced. There's nothing to be nervous about."

She shifted her eyes to look at Harry, who was looking at her with a concerned expression. When he noticed that she was looking at him, he gave her a smile. "Ron's right. It's going to be incredible."

"Incredible," she agreed, looking out the window. For a moment, she could visualize what Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry looked like. She had seen it in photographs and articles that Percy read from the _Daily Prophet_, but now she thought of how it would look, standing before it. A massive, majestic and grand castle—aged beautifully like a fine wine, emitting the utter epitome of magic to all first-time onlookers.

She smiled to herself at the thought, only barely hearing the conversation between Ron and Harry about Chocolate Frogs and the Famous Witch or Wizard Cards that come in the package. He began to demonstrate to Harry a spell that Fred had given him to turn his rat, Scabbers, yellow when the compartment door was thrust open. A girl dressed in her robes with bushy brunette hair was scanning their compartment with her eyes. She looked to the three of them and straightened her back. "Have any of you seen a toad? This boy, Neville, lost him—could be hopping about anywhere."

"No," Ron told her, shaking his head.

The girl looked to Ron's drawn wand, and then to the rat. "Are you doing magic? Can I watch?" she asked, though it seemed to be more of a rhetorical question, as she sat across from them before they could consent to her entrance. "Go on."

Ron scowled at her, rolled his eyes, and then turned his attention back to Scabbers. He began waving his wand in no particular pattern, and spoke, "_Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow—turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!_"

However, Scabbers was left unchanged.

"It was bogus!" he roared angrily. "Of course—typical of Fred—giving me bogus spells just to embarrass me in front of people!"

"I can show you a bit of _real_ magic," the girl intervened. She looked around for something she could cast a spell on. She noticed the tape covering the nosepiece to Harry's glasses, scooted over on the seat to be across from him, drew her wand, cleared her throat, and waved it. "_Oculus Reparo_."

The tape fell from Harry's glasses, revealing the broken nosepiece to now be fixed. He pulled them off of his face and looked down to them. "That's brilliant."

"Thank you," she grinned and paused. "What a wonder! You're Harry Potter! I'm Hermione Granger, by the way," she introduced, and then looked to Ron and Aralynn expectantly.

"I'm Aralynn Weasley," she said. "This is my brother, Ron."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," she said, stood, and headed for the exit. Without looking back, she said, "We're arriving at Hogwarts soon, and everyone is changing into their robes—you three should do the same."

When Hermione Granger left their compartment, Ron turned slowly to Harry. "Is she _completely_ off her rocker?"

Aralynn smacked his arm. "Don't be rude, Ronald."

"Oh, come on—didn't you _see_ her? She's a complete _nutter_."

"She's proud of herself for using magic," she hissed. "Don't dampen her pride with your lack of politeness."

Ron rolled his eyes and stood from his seat. "She was right about one thing—we should be changing into our robes. You first, since you're the only girl—I'll cover you with my robe until you're finished."

The three of them bustled about the compartment as they changed into their uniforms and robes. Once they were dressed in their Hogwarts attire, they sat near the window and stared at the castle approaching rapidly from the distance. Finally, the train came to a halt, and all of the students ran off of it, as they were eager to finally enter the finest magical institution. They gathered into small, lamp-lit rowboats resting in a dark-watered lake, and stared up to the great castle in awe. Aralynn, sitting between Harry and Ron, stared up at the magnificent building with gentle eyes. She was already in love. There it was—her greatest dream: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


	7. The Lion Den

As the rowboats slowly drew closer and closer to the shore, Aralynn stared at the magnificence of her surroundings with excitement buzzing deep within the pit of her stomach. For so long she had merely dreamed of the day she would be able to enter Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the first time, and finally, after such yearning; that day was upon her.

Once the boats docked, the large and furry man who had retrieved them when they exited the train—Hagrid, according to Harry—had all of the first-year students congregate at the foot of their new school. Even as the crowd began to move, Aralynn lingered behind, taking a few moments to admire where she was—with the castle looming over her, handsome and wise.

It wasn't long before Ron and Harry realized she had strayed behind, and they quickly approached in order to redirect her to the proper path. Before she allowed her star-struck gaze to be broken, she rummaged through her robes and pulled out her camera. She took a step back and photographed the castle with a smile spreading across her face. It would make a fine addition to the scrapbook Ron gifted her for her birthday.

Shortly after Ron, Harry, and Aralynn rejoined the fold, they were stopped at the top of the stairs, just outside of the massive wooden double doors leading inside of the castle. The large man turned around, and smiled at all of the children who were staring up at him. "Sorry 'bout not introducin' meself before scoopin' ye up and takin' ye away," he said. Before speaking again, he cleared his throat—which rumbled into the darkness like thunder. "My name is Rubeus Hagrid, but ye wee ones can call me 'Hagrid'. Here at Hogwarts, I'm the Keeper of Keys and Grounds. Now, before I take ya inside; I need t' remin' ye all to stay close, to each oth'r, understan'? Hogwarts is a righ' big place, and we needn't lose any of ya… on th' firs' day, no less! Stay close to each oth'r, ya got it?"

After the students nodded collectively, Hagrid returned a nod to them, then turned and pushed the double doors open to reveal the beautifully aged interior of the castle. They followed quickly behind him, staying tucked together in a close pack. As they ascended a staircase, Aralynn decided that photographs and articles from the Daily Prophet paid no true measure to the grandeur of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

At the head of the staircase stood a black-haired woman with her lips pursed sternly and her arms folded on the inside of her robe sleeves. Hagrid gave a respectful nod to the woman before entering through another set of double doors. The fresh students stopped before the woman and stared at her uneasily; many wondering if they were facing certain doom.

The woman's green eyes flicked between each of the students' faces—her gaze seeming to linger on Harry Potter, and Aralynn Weasley for several moments longer than necessary. After a period of silence, she began to speak. "I am Minerva McGonagall, professor of Transfiguration, Head of the Transfiguration Department, and also Head of the Gryffindor House. Before you enter through these doors into the Great Hall, I will inform you of the four houses you have the possibility of being sorted into here at Hogwarts. There are: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw… and Slytherin. When you are sorted, your housemates will become your family while you are at Hogwarts. At the completion of each year, the house with the most points will win the House Cup. Each and every student possesses the ability to have points added or deducted from their house ledgers. Triumphs will earn points, and broken rules will lose points." Once Professor McGonagall stopped speaking, she looked the between students. "The Sorting Ceremony will begin shortly. I will see to the preparations, and will call you inside when we are ready. Remain here, and _behave_ yourselves."

Once Professor McGonagall had disappeared behind the doors, children took it upon themselves to introduce themselves to their peers in an attempt to make new friends. Aralynn continued to gawk at the castle, and used her camera to take photographs of every bit of the structure that she could. As she was photographing the ancient doors, she felt tapping on her shoulder. She turned toward the source, and came face-to-face with a fair-skinned boy whose white-blond hair was slicked back. She cocked a red eyebrow at him as she tucked her camera away for safety. "Can I help you?"

"Don't remember me, then, Weasley?" the boy asked, pompously.

Aralynn gave him a once-over. "Should I?"

His cold grey eyes narrowed at her. "We met once before," he informed. "At Madam Malkin's. I was with my father."

"Oh," Aralynn nodded. "That's right—you're… well, I can't really remember your name." Of course, Aralynn _did_ remember him. His name was Draco Malfoy, whom she had met simultaneously with his father, Lucius.

"Draco," he hissed. "Not hard to remember."

"Must not have been worth remembering."

Draco glowered at her, but his gaze soon shifted to Harry. He studied him, eyes falling upon the scar above the boy's eyebrow. "Well then, the rumors _are_ true. Harry Potter really has come to Hogwarts."

With the mention of Harry's name, the students quieted and began to whisper amongst themselves. There was a collective aura of awe at this new information coming to light. Harry, however, looked incredibly uncomfortable. He turned towards Draco, peering at me through his glasses. "And who, may I ask, are you?"

Draco held out a hand. "My name is Draco Malfoy." Harry, however, neglected to take his hand, much to Draco's indignation. He placed his hand back at his side. "Befriended the Weasleys, have you? A shame, really."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows at Draco. "I'm sorry?"

"You'll soon come to learn that some wizarding families are… well, lower than others. The Weasleys here are disgraceful to pure-blood lineage. Best you surround yourself with _decent_ people, if you know what I mean. People like me."

Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco. "I think I've found the decent people myself, thanks."

Anger split across Draco Malfoy's expression. "How dare you insult me!"

"If there _are_ any wizarding families lower than others, Draco, I would say that the Malfoys are at the bottom of the chain," Aralynn intervened, staring hard at the boy.

Draco took a step towards her. "What did you say to me, filthy peasant? You wait until my father hears about this. Your family will be ruined. With what is _left_ to be ruined, that is." He then scoffed. "I should put you in your place, you know."

Aralynn smiled bitterly at him. "Do tell—you conceited tosser."

For a moment, it looked as though Draco Malfoy was preparing strike Aralynn with his palm. However, he decided against it. Instead, he turned toward a few people who were standing behind him and muttered something about her parents. Aralynn then tapped on his shoulder, waiting patiently for him to turn around. When he did, she balled her fist, and cracked it against his jaw. The children around them gasped as he fell to the floor, with a hand cupping his nose. "You hit me!" he exclaimed, appalled.

"Yes," Aralynn nodded. "I did, and if you say another word about me or my family, I'll hit you again. Do you understand?"

Harry and Ron each grabbed onto one of Aralynn's arms and pulled her away from Draco. They then turned her toward them, with their arms crossed over their chest. "Bloody hell, Ara—that was _wicked_!" exclaimed Ronald.

Harry nodded. "Wicked," he agreed, "but dumb. You could have been expelled for that, and we haven't even started!"

Aralynn shrugged dismissively. "Luckily, no one was around. Besides, I don't suspect that Draco will be telling any of the professors about it."

"And why not?" Harry asked.

"I imagine that Draco Malfoy is the kind of person who would be incredibly embarrassed he was 'bested' by a girl. Which, he just was. Therefore, his shame will also equal his silence."

"Wicked," Ron said again with a grin. When Harry glared at him, he cleared his throat. "Ah—well—don't do it again!"

"Don't do what again?"

The three of them swung around in surprise to see Professor McGonagall watching them with austere eyes. While Harry and Ron fumbled over their words to try and think of an excuse, Aralynn smiled at the professor. "Don't try to wander off again," she lied. "I get curious."

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips skeptically, but then turned to the whole group. "We're ready for you, now."

The group of first-year students followed Professor McGonagall as the double doors leading into the Great Hall opened before her. They moved inside of the room, which was far greater than its name could pay homage to. As they walked down a pathway between rows of tables on either side, Aralynn immediately pulled her camera out of her pocket to photograph every trivial detail she could. Toward the front of the room, behind a long table, was a massive window peering out onto the castle grounds. The ceiling appeared to be missing, and instead revealed the indigo sky with small, twinkling stars littered askew. As Aralynn studied the sky and wondered where the ceiling had gone, she heard Hermione Granger's voice explaining that it was—in fact—the ceiling, and was simply bewitched to resemble sky. A few meters below the ceiling levitated wax candles, which acted as a primary light source, but also a beautiful decorative touch. The paused just between a stool sitting on a raised platform where the buffet for the Hogwarts staff was placed. Atop the stool was an old, mangy, patched pointed hat.

Aralynn leaned over to her twin brother, and nudged him with her elbow. "Is it everything you hoped it would be, Ron?"

"Everything and more," Ron answered.

Aralynn glanced behind her shoulder, noticing her three elder brothers Percy, Fred, and George sitting together at one of the designated tables for the Gryffindor house. When they caught sight of her, they waved excitedly at her.

She returned her attention to Professor McGonagall when she cleared her throat. She held up a rolled parchment scroll for the students to see. "Now, on this scroll, you are all sorted alphabetically. When I call your name, you will approach the platform, and take a seat upon this stool. I place this upon your head, and you will be sorted into your designated houses." McGonagall then unraveled the scroll. "Now, let's begin… Hannah Abbott?"

As the blonde-haired girl approached the stool nervously, Aralynn turned towards Ron and Harry. "Any idea of the house you're hoping to be sorted into?"

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly, I'd be good with other than _Slytherin_, but I am hoping for Gryffindor. Mum and Dad would be proud, I think."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "Is there something with Slytherin?"

Aralynn looked to Harry. "No."

"Yes, there is!" Ron intervened. "Every witch and wizard who has ever gone bad were in Slytherin House."

Aralynn rolled her eyes. "I doubt that's true, and even if it were, that doesn't mean Slytherin, on principle, is a bad house. They have a bad reputation, but that doesn't mean every single person to ever be sorted there is evil, or dark. Don't let him scare you, Harry. Slytherins have nice traits, actually—ambition, cunning, self-preservation, and goal-oriented. What's wrong with that?"

Harry gave Aralynn a small, but timid smile. "Nothing, I suppose."

Aralynn nodded. "Exactly—nothing. So, there's no reason to be afraid." She then turned toward Ron. "You need to be more tolerant, Ronald."

"I'm just saying what I know."

"No, you're just saying what you _think_ you know. Just because people say awful things about Slytherin doesn't mean that any of it's true. In the letter that Charlie sent me for my birthday, he wrote: 'Slytherin is the House of Evil People, not the House of Evil,' and that's important to remember."

Ronald scrunched his face at her. "Yeah, alright."

"Hermione Granger!" Professor McGonagall's voice rang.

Aralynn, Ron, and Harry turned toward the stool as Hermione approached the stool. She sat down, and appeared to be muttering to herself. McGonagall placed the ragged hat upon her head, and she jumped in surprise. The hat seemed to be moving, as though it were alive. Aralynn tilted her head and looked to Ron. "Fred and George have told us about the sorting process, haven't they? Isn't the hat alive?"

Ron shrugged. "In some sense, I guess. I know it talks to you, but only you can hear what it's saying. You don't even have to speak, but it can read your mind. The only time we hear it speak is when it announces the house. I guess we missed it, though… talking and whatnot."

Aralynn held up her hand and shushed Ronald before he could speak any further. Hermione gazed at the crowd nervously, and soon, the Sorting Hat bellowed: "Gryffindor!"

Hermione's Gryffindor housemates began to clap and cheer. She hopped down from the platform with a bright smile upon her face as she took her seat at her newly designated table. McGonagall then continued to read off of her list, and Ron turned to Aralynn. "Being sorted with her will be annoying. She's mental!"

Aralynn shook her head. "You're so judgmental, Ronald."

"Well, she _is_!" Ron exclaimed.

Aralynn waved her hand at him and turned a smile to Harry. She looked to the scar on his forehead before redirecting her attention to his face. "You don't know much about the Hogwarts houses, do you?"

Harry flashed a sheepish smile. "No, not really."

"Well, I've told you about Slytherin," Aralynn said with a nod. "There's also: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. Our parents and brothers have all been sorted into Gryffindor, and the house prides itself on courage, strength, and chivalry. Hufflepuff is known for resourcefulness, loyalty, and patience. Then there's Ravenclaw… their students are always intelligent beyond compare—creative, and witty. Oh! I can tell you about the founders, too. Well, who they are, anyway. The houses are named after their founders, and the traits for each house are reflective of the founders, but also reflect the kind of people they admired most. Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin."

Harry listened to her intently, smiling as she spoke. He nodded and took a deep breath. "It's all a bit overwhelming, you know? This is all new to me. I don't know anything about magic, or this school, or anything… I feel so behind."

Aralynn placed her hand on Harry's shoulder comfortingly. "You'll learn, Harry. I mean, didn't your parents teach you about magic? Are they Muggles?"

Harry shook his head. "No, they aren't. At least—I don't think they were. I don't know much about them, either. They died when I was a baby. I was raised with my aunt and uncle—and they're Muggles. I guess they knew about me being magical, but they never told me. So, I didn't really have anyone to teach me."

"I'm sorry about your parents," Aralynn told him before smiling sympathetically. "Well, you'll have people to teach you now. The professors, and Ronald and I. That's something."

Harry smiled brightly at her. "Yeah, it is. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she nodded. When McGonagall called out Harry's name, Aralynn squeezed his hand encouragingly. It felt as though electricity shot through their hands—there was a sort of familiarity in the touch, but she decided not to question it. "Good luck."

Harry grinned nervously at her before approaching the platform. Aralynn reached over and took Ron's hand, watching the hat move about as it spoke secretively to Harry, who looked even more nervous than he originally had. She looked at her brother, who was watching the hat as well. "What do you think it's saying?"

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno. Guess we'll find out."

After a few more seconds, the Sorting Hat yelled "Gryffindor!" as its verdict. Aralynn let go of her brother's hand to clap her hands excitedly. She gave him an emboldened smile as he walked over to Gryffindor's seating area.

Fred and George stood from their seats, clapped their hands rhythmically, and chanted, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

Ron and Aralynn Weasley eagerly waited for their names to be called by Professor McGonagall. When she finally finished with all students with last names starting with 'U,' Aralynn's name was the first to be called. She looked over to Ron nervously, and he reached out to give her hand a squeeze. She then approached the platform slowly; anxiously. She could feel the eyes of every single person in the Great Hall burning holes into her back. She turned towards the crowd and sat down hesitantly. Every single pair of eyes staring her down made her feel as though she were going to vomit. McGonagall placed the hat down upon Aralynn's head, but she couldn't hear anything. After a moment, however, she jumped when she heard the hat's thoughtful humming.

"Ah, yes… yes, much here—much to analyze," said the Sorting Hat. "Bright as a Ravenclaw… loyal as Hufflepuff… ambitious as a Slytherin—oh, and the nerve—the bounding heart! A perfect resemblance to Gryffindor! Ah, but the decision… the decision, as it is, is difficult. Perhaps the first student I've come across in a very long time to fit each house's qualifications. You have a great deal of talent, Miss Weasley—a long and troubled destiny ahead of you. I almost want to say that Ravenclaw would be the best fit for you, but no… no, I don't think I'll be putting you there…" For a long moment, the hat paused. "You have so much greatness, and I believe… yes, that'll be it." The Sorting Hat then went silent. Aralynn watched the crowd nervously, and then looked to Ron, who smiled at her. "Gryffindor!" the hat finally shouted, causing Aralynn to jerk in surprise.

McGonagall pulled the hat off of her head, and she moved to join Harry and her brothers at the table. When she sat down, Fred rustled her hair. "Hey, good job there, Little Red. Thought for a moment you were being sorted into Slytherin!"

George laughed. "Oh, Mum would've _loved_ that."

Harry looked at her from across the table. "What did it say?"

Aralynn shrugged her shoulders. "It almost sorted me into Ravenclaw, but it said that I was almost a perfect make-up of all the houses."

Percy looked over, eyebrow cocked. "Really?"

Aralynn glared at him briefly. "Don't be rude, Percy."

"Oh, oh—shut it!" Fred exclaimed. "I think Ron is about to get the decision."

"Oh, I hope he gets Hufflepuff," George said.

Fred laughed. "We'd never let him live it down!"

George smirked. "Never."

Ronald, however, was not sorted into Hufflepuff—like the rest of his siblings before him, including his parents, he was sorted into Gryffindor as well. He let out a massive sigh of relief, and then joined us at the table. "Bloody hell, that was terrifying."

Aralynn smiled proudly at her brother. "That's it, then. We're all lions now."

George learned over, smirking at his younger sister. "Yes, you are. Welcome to the lion den, little cubs."


	8. With Bitter Taste

As all the members of Gryffindor House, both returning and new, followed Percy Weasley to their Common Room; many of the first year and transfer students lingered behind the pack to gawk at the magnificent castle surrounding. It was quite large—even larger than it appeared to be from the tiny rowboats. No measure of recount, or photographs and wordy articles from the _Daily Prophet_ could truly capture the grandeur of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The stairs were built with beautiful, aging stone—the walls of the spiraling towers were methodically lined with large, intricately framed portraits of time passed; offsetting that extra sense of curiosity-inducing history to the atmosphere… portraits in which the paint moved, and had life. Many of the men and women portrayed in those pieces of art twiddled friendly fingers at the unfamiliar faces.

Harry Potter, while also stunned and awed, had still managed to notice that Aralynn had fallen behind. Once she realized that the shaggy-haired boy was striding at her side, she smiled softly at him. "Incredible, isn't it?" she asked, eyes skirting around. "I've known about magic my whole life. I've lived through trips to Diagon Alley, and listened to tales about Hogwarts, but I could ever picture a place this _truly_ beautiful and magical. Having been raised separate from the wizarding world—with Muggles—I can't imagine how this is for _you_."

"Oh, absolutely brilliant," answered Harry. "Bit intimidating and unbelievable, but brilliant. I still expect I'll wake from a dream at any second."

"It _is_ intimidating, isn't it?" Aralynn laughed. "It is for me, too; even despite my comfort with magic. It is a dream—only a very real one. Could you ever have imagined a place like this existing? Of _magic_ existing?"

"Oh, never!" Harry exclaimed with a chuckle. "It's… quite amazing, really. When Hagrid first came to me and told me that I was a wizard… I didn't think it was real, even though I knew my imagination _definitely_ wasn't creative enough to develop… something like _this_."

"Hagrid told you?" Aralynn questioned, eyebrow cocked. "The large man from the rowboats?"

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "Hagrid is great. Ah—I started receiving letters at home when holiday started. I didn't know who they were from, because I never got the chance to open them. My Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia did everything they could to keep the letters away from me. It worked, but letters kept coming—more and more every time. It got so bad that Uncle Vernon took us to this rickety shack in the middle of the sea—thinking that no letters could be delivered there, especially since it was storming. Just after midnight, it was my eleventh birthday, and Hagrid broke down the door! Then he told me the truth—about me, and my parents… about my scar."

Aralynn was listening intently, and that was obvious. She had always been very fascinated to hear about the lives and pasts of others—it interested her. She enjoyed learning about people; reading them; studying their expressions and body language to figure out their character and personality. Though, the mention of his scar was what had drawn her full attention. She wanted to ask him what he knew about it, but figured it was best to leave it be. At least for now. "When is your birthday?"

"The thirty-first of July," answered Harry.

"Merlin's beard!" Aralynn exclaimed. "You've had little over a month to learn about this? No wonder you feel so behind." She offered a sympathetic smile. "You shouldn't worry so much, Harry. I know this is… probably _extremely_ overwhelming for you, but you'll get the hang of it. Ron and I will be here to help you, and I'm sorry about any and all social attention you'll gain from your scar… from the truth about yourself. I can act as your bodyguard!"

Harry laughed. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I think I have a handle on things. It will be odd at first, but I'll grow used to it. What frightens me more is the _magic_! I'm very excited about it, but, I do feel like I'm lacking. I have so much to catch up on."

"We all do, really," Aralynn reassured. "We're all new to this, just like you. We can help each other—support each other. It's going to be okay."

After entering the Common Room, which was decorated with maroon and gold furniture, and was lit by the fire roaring in the fireplace, Harry and Aralynn shared a brief hug. "Thank you," Harry said to Aralynn before following his assigned dormmates up the boys' stairs.

Aralynn watched after Harry Potter, thinking about the peculiar scar on his head—about the identical one she had on hers. Why did they both have it? Why did she feel so connected with him? Thoughtfully, she sighed, and then brought her attention to Percy as he announced her bunkmates, and their assigned dormitory room. "Let's see," Percy began, clicking his tongue. "Ah, yes. Hermione Granger, Lavender Brown, Fay Dunbar, Parvati Patil, and Aralynn Weasley."

The girls walked up their respective staircase, and into their assigned dormitory. Aralynn watched the girl with the bushy hair she, Ron, and Harry had met earlier on the train. It was clear to her that the girl—Hermione Granger—was feeling uncomfortable and out of place. She then decided to march right up to the girl and befriend her. After all, Harry and Ron had been giving her the cold shoulder. She didn't deserve it. "Hello!" Aralynn greeted brightly, offering her hand to the girl. "My name is Aralynn Weasley. I believe we met on the train, briefly?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione replied with an awkward grin. "You were with your brother—the one with dirt on his nose, and Harry Potter. My name is Hermione Granger." She then took Aralynn's hand and shook it. Aralynn noted that her grip seemed to relax slightly. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"A pleasure to meet you, too," Aralynn responded with a nod. "I overheard you talking in the Great Hall—about all that you've read and learned; that you've practiced spells already."

Slowly, Hermione nodded. It was clear that she was proud, but also wary of being insulted for her obvious intelligence. Aralynn had no such plans—in fact, she admired Hermione for this. "That's wonderful," the redhead told the other. "You value learning… I do, too."

The assurance brought a bright and toothy smile to Hermione Granger's face. "Oh, isn't it wonderful? There is so much in the world to read about and experience. I absolutely adore it… Have you skimmed through any of the textbooks yet?"

"A bit," answered Aralynn with a short shrug. "It can be somewhat difficult to get reading done at home… lots of chaos."

"You're a Weasley, aren't you?"

Aralynn felt blood rushing to her ears. She half expected the girl to insult the family… many people did. Silently and cautiously, she nodded.

Hermione grinned. "I noticed a few of your siblings in the Common Room earlier. There are quite a lot of you. Is it nice to have siblings?"

"Do you not?"

The girl shook her head, somewhat glumly. "I'm an only child. My parents are Muggles. They're dentists."

Aralynn nodded, but she wasn't quite sure what a 'dentist' was. Still yet, she wanted Hermione to know that she was listening and following their conversation. "Oh—by the way, I wanted to apologize for the way my brother, Ron, acted on the train. He wasn't particularly kind."

Hermione shrugged, but with a soft smile on her face. "I appreciate the apology, but that's quite alright. I know I can be a bit… abrasive… at times."

"That doesn't mean you deserve to be treated rudely."

The girl nodded, lurching forward at sudden to give Aralynn a hug. Then she stepped back, looking a bit embarrassed. "Sorry," she muttered. "You're the first person who's really… been kind to me tonight."

Aralynn beamed at her. "You're more than welcome, Hermione. It's getting a bit late, though. We should head to bed. I'll see you in class."

Hermione wished Aralynn a good night, and the two both crawled into their four-poster beds, and quickly drifted into a peaceful slumber. Well, for Aralynn, the peace was short-lived. She had had a strange dream—which pertained to nothing in particular, it seemed. It was simply a blinding flash of green light, underlaid with screaming. Even a dream, or rather nightmare, so simple jolted her awake. After catching her breath, she had instinctively touched her scar.

Why? She didn't know.

* * *

The first morning of classes was rough. Aralynn hadn't slept well at all and kept stirring awake all night. Her nightmares had all been the same—that green light and awful screaming. It wasn't a dream that Aralynn had ever had before, and she wasn't entirely sure what it meant. All she knew was that, for reasons unknown, it made her tremble with fear.

While history would have otherwise fascinated her; she found it exceedingly difficult to sit through History of Magic, as taught by the ghostly (literally, not figuratively) Professor Binns. Though she would be ashamed to admit it, she fell asleep several times. The rest of her classes seemed to go smoothly. Professor McGonagall had given Aralynn and Hermione a rare smile when they both had managed to transfigure their matchsticks into shiny, silver needles. The last class of the day was Potions with Professor Severus Snape. Aralynn had been walking throughout the corridors alone when she spotted Harry and Ron, and jogged to catch up with them. She had joined in the middle of a conversation.

"Percy told me that Professor Snape wants Professor Quirrell's position to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts," said Harry.

"I've heard loads about Snape," Ron replied.

"Like what?" asked Harry.

"Oh, just that he's dead awful."

Harry's face paled. "What do you mean?"

"People say he's cruel," Aralynn intervened, surprising both boys. "Fred and George say he hates all of his students."

Ron nodded. "And that he's… well, a bit dodgy."

For a moment, Harry looked as though he was going to be sick. "I saw him in the Great Hall. He looked at me, and… for some reason, my scar started hurting. I wonder what that means?"

"Can't be anything good," Ron said.

This obviously frightened Harry a bit, and Aralynn stuck her elbow into Ron's ribcage. Ignoring her brother's yelps, she shoved herself between the boys and smiled at Harry. "Try not to worry. I'm sure Professor Snape isn't as horrible as people say. Fred and George aren't exactly the most reliable sources of information, anyway."

As soon as they entered the Potions classroom, Aralynn immediately regretted her reassuring words. Professor Snape wasn't as awful as people said—he was _worse_. There wasn't a single student he seemed to be kind to, except perhaps the Slytherins. Which, Aralynn thought, was typical. Professor Snape _was_ the Head of Slytherin House, after all. Of course, he was partial.

In the classroom, Aralynn took a seat next to Hermione, who had eagerly taken out her _Magical Drafts and Potions_ textbook, opening to the first page. The professor of the classroom entered the room with a slam of the door—he was slender with long, greasy black hair and sallow skin. He wore robes as black as night, which bellowed behind him as he swept swiftly to the head of the room. He looked around the room with his dark eyes, seeming to glower at each of the students. His disdain for the children was already quite apparent.

Professor Snape had started the class by taking roll call, reading over each student's name with a voice thick and crawling like tar. The call was taken quickly and fashionably, until the man paused with his eyes lingering over one name in particular. "Harry Potter," he said, lifting his head to stare at the boy menacingly. "Hogwarts' newest celebrity. How _pleased_ we are to have you grace us with your presence."

Harry looked extremely uncomfortable. It seemed that Professor Snape was singling him out, but his expression stated clearly that he didn't know why. Yes, for all intents and purposes, he was 'famous…' but why did this man seem to hate him so? For little more than a name and a scar?

"In this class, you will learn to make several drafts and potions. This is a magic so subtle… so artistic… it hardly seems to be magic at all. Yet, I assure you, it is one of the most powerful and valuable abilities you could possess. Potionmaking requires quite a hefty skillset. Here, I can teach you many things… many things behind liquid that can bring life, or usher death. That is, so long as you're not incompetent oafs. Not that I have much faith in that… most students I have taught throughout the years were completely inadequate. I don't expect you lot will be any different."

Aralynn blinked uneasily. There was a certain desire lingering in the classroom to prove to Professor Snape that the students were fresh and eager to learn. They wanted to show their worth—to assure him that they weren't dunderheads. Unfortunately, the execution of that seemed impossible. He was quite sure that they would fail.

The man swept around the classroom, looking between each of the students' faces. As he passed by Hermione and Aralynn, his confident step faltered and his eyes focused on Aralynn. The hardness in his black, tunneling eyes seemed to soften. As Aralynn looked back at her professor, she noticed something of sorrow and longing in his expression. This, however, quickly abated and he turned sharply, eyes on the back of Harry's head.

"Potter!" he shouted, moving around to stand before him. "Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry looked lost. Obviously, he wasn't going to know the answer—he had never had any sort of magical upbringing. Sure, he had textbooks, but if his aunt and uncle were as awful as he claimed them to be; would he had even had the opportunity to skim through the texts before now? Awkwardly, he started to open the textbook before him, but Snape smacked the tip of his wand down on the cover. Harry quickly withdrew his hands.

Snape sneered, looking triumphant. "No answer?"

Harry remained silent. Snape clicked his tongue at him.

"One more shot," he said. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Aralynn had only now noticed that Hermione had her arm outstretched as far as possible. She was nearly climbing atop her seat, trying to get the attention of their professor. Snape, however, while completely aware of her—was ignoring her. His sights were fixed tightly on Harry.

After a moment, Harry cleared his throat. "I-I don't know, sir."

Once again, Snape looked pleased. "Did you not think it imperative to study before the term?" he snapped. "No, of course you didn't. Why should you? The famous Harry Potter—well, thought he could just slide through his classes and exams on sheer luck, couldn't he? Why, he had done so before with the Dark Lord. Why not a bit of parchment?"

Harry was appalled. He opened his mouth to protest, but he was quickly cut off when Snape began explaining the answers to the questions he had asked. He then decided to take a point from Gryffindor, simply for Harry's audacity to try and 'give cheek.'

The class ended with several more points taken from Gryffindor after Snape had paired them to brew a potion to cure boils. The Gryffindor students exiting the classroom looked extremely put off, and hung their heads unconfidently. Aralynn shuffled past Neville Longbottom, who was covered in boils and groaning as he headed for the Hospital Wing. She wished him a speedy recovery, and moved to Harry's side. "I would like to formally apologize for trying to tell you that Snape wasn't awful."

Harry laughed, but it was halfhearted. "You didn't know."

"Still, I tried to make you feel better. I think I might've set you up for failure there. He was worse than anyone made him seem. I could hardly believe it."

"How would you know?" Ron jeered. "He wasn't rude to you. He was actually pretty _nice_, if you ask me. He actually _helped_ you. Playing favorites already!"

Aralynn glared at Ron. "Don't blame me," she hissed. "I don't know why he seemed to be a little more lenient with me. Maybe I showed promise!"

Ron sniggered. "Don't be thick. Out of everyone in the class, Hermione showed the most 'promise,' and he didn't like her, either."

Aralynn heated with anger. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"That Hermione is smarter than you."

Aralynn smacked the back of Ron's head with her _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ textbook, weaving throughout students in the corridors as she stomped away.

* * *

At supper, Aralynn made sure to sit as far from Ron as possible. She felt somewhat guilty, as she wasn't trying to punish Harry, but she knew that they had become quite close very quickly. Instead of sitting with the boys, she sat with Hermione, and listened to her excited chatter about their classes. Somehow, she had even managed to muster enthusiasm for Professor Snape's class. Normally, Aralynn wouldn't have minded Hermione's fast-paced talk about all that she learned, and what she wanted to learn more about, but Ron's previous comment still had her irate. Sure, Hermione was definitely brighter than her, but the way Ron had said it was quite disparaging. The brunette seemed to notice Aralynn's angry silence.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Peachy," answered Aralynn.

Hermione closed her textbook and turned towards Aralynn. It was clear she meant business. "You haven't said a word, and you've been completely ignoring your treacle tart. What's on your mind?"

Aralynn proceeded to explain what Ron had said after their Potions class, and Hermione looked just as angry as she felt. "How rude!" she exclaimed. "I don't think I'm smarter than you, Aralynn. I can't believe he would say something like that. Sure, Snape was a bit softer with you, but why should that be a bad thing?"

"Ron says he's favoriting me," said Aralynn.

Hermione shook her head. "Nonsense. Maybe you just happened to annoy him the least."

"Maybe."

* * *

After the feast, Aralynn followed behind Harry and Ron once she noticed that they weren't heading back to the Common Room. They crossed the grounds and headed to a shabby hut standing just before the tree-line of the Forbidden Forest. The very large and bearded man who had greeted them at the boats on the lake when they arrived at Hogwarts threw the hut's door open, and welcomed the boys. He eagerly waved them inside, and Aralynn slipped in right after.

When Ron noticed that she had accompanied them, he narrowed his eyes. "Nobody invited _you_," he said.

"Nonsense!" bellowed Hagrid. He was staring at Aralynn admiringly, looking as though he were about to cry. The great man sniffled and dabbed at his eyes with a nasty handkerchief. "Aralynn's always welcome here."

While she wasn't sure how Hagrid already knew her, she gave her brother a taunting sniff and moved to sit down near Harry. The large man was moving around the hut, preparing tea and plating snacks. "Glad ya got the chance ter visit," he said. "Been wond'rin how yer classes have been goin'. All's well, I hope?"

"Well enough," Harry replied, taking a cup of tea from Hagrid when he offered it.

"Summat seem ter be botherin' ye," Hagrid pointed out. "Not likin' a class?"

"Potions," Harry said. "Professor Snape _hates_ me."

"Codswallop!" exclaimed the giant. "Ain't got no reason ter hate ya, Harry."

"He _does_, though."

Aralynn showed Hagrid a slight smile. "He _is_ a bit cruel."

Hagrid huffed. "Snape's never been the nicest feller, but he's a Hogwarts teacher, nonetheless. He don' hate you."

"Seems to," muttered Harry. Ron was still glowering at Aralynn.

Hagrid waved his hand at Harry. "How 'bout you two?" he asked, looking between the Weasleys. "How're yer classes goin'?"

"Well," Aralynn answered with a smile. "They're interesting."

"Snape _likes_ her," Ron hissed. "Hates the rest of us, but likes her. He was nice to her."

Hagrid grumbled. "Fer the last time, Snape don' hate none of his students! He just ain't very… affectionate s'all. Besides, why wouldn' Snape like Aralynn? He's got good reason ter like her!"

This took Aralynn aback. What was that supposed to mean? Snape and Aralynn had just met, why would he have had good reason to like her? "What d'you mean, Hagrid?"

Hagrid looked puzzled. "Well… er, I mean—yer a nice girl, right? Bright student? That's plenty o' reason."

There was something Hagrid knew that Aralynn didn't.


	9. Secret Dogs, Secret Doors

For the next several weeks, Aralynn could not manage to pull herself from her own head. What Hagrid had said about Professor Snape having good reason to like her wouldn't stop turning over and over in her mind. It was clear that the people around her knew more about her than she did. Throughout the years, she _had_ always felt as though there was _something_ about her that she didn't quite understand—something she was missing. She had never felt whole; not even on her greatest days. No matter how hard she tried to ignore that feeling—overlook it—she was always unable to. It would never stop nagging at her; hiding in the back of her head. Why was this feeling so overpowering? Why did she always feel as though she were _wrong_? That something _about_ her was wrong? Aralynn knew who she was… didn't she?

It was hard for her to focus on her classes, but she had still somehow managed to maintain relatively good marks. Hermione was still raging in the primary spot as the top of their class. Aralynn was proud of her for that, but disappointed in herself. She had managed to fall so behind simply because she couldn't focus. Simply because there were words people had said that she couldn't stop thinking about. Realistically, these words probably held no stock, but they still refused to go away. They were relentless; unyielding.

Aralynn and Ron had since forgiven each other for their unfriendly behavior and resumed the close relationship that, as twins, they were meant to have. It was only when Aralynn overheard Ron and Harry's conversation during supper one night that she truly came back to reality.

"—Hagrid and I were there earlier that day… in that _same_ vault," said Harry.

"I wonder what could have been in there," Ron replied, itching his head thoughtfully. "Who would want to steal something from a vault that was already empty?"

Aralynn excused herself from Hermione and scooted closer to Harry and Ron. "What's going on?" she asked. "What are you two talking about? Something about a vault?"

Harry nodded, a bit eagerly. "When Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley on my birthday, we visited a vault at Gringotts. Hagrid wouldn't tell me what it was that was in there. All he said that it was 'official Hogwarts business' and that it was 'very serious.' Obviously, it was meant to be kept a secret. Whatever it was, it was in a very small parcel, and it was heavily protected. When we went to Hagrid's a few weeks back, I saw an article from the _Daily Prophet_. A vault at Gringotts was broken into, and it was the _same_ vault we went to earlier _that_ _day_! Whoever went there was trying to find whatever Hagrid took…"

Aralynn listened attentively to Harry. She furrowed her eyebrows. "Gringotts is protected by incredibly powerful magic," she said. "_Nobody _has ever been able to break into those vaults. Only someone who possessed unimaginable power would have been able to do that."

"A _seriously_ dark wizard," Ron agreed.

"I wonder what it was," Harry wondered longingly.

Aralynn shrugged. "Well, whatever it was; it's safe here now. It's at Hogwarts, and it's under Professor Dumbledore's protection. I don't think it's something that needs to be worried about anymore."

Harry had an unconvinced frown on his face. "I dunno. Maybe not."

* * *

That afternoon was their first flying lesson with Madam Hooch. The participating students were jittering with excitement and chatting exuberantly amongst themselves. Given that the students were born with at least one magical parent, the chances were good that they had flown before. Aralynn and Ron both had, but Aralynn had no doubt that Hermione and Harry were both anxious. Hermione was Muggleborn, and Harry had been raised with a Muggle family. Surely, they had never even thought of riding a broom before reading or learning about it from their friends and professors.

Madam Hooch was a fierce looking woman with spiky grey hair and yellow eyes that reminded Aralynn of a hawk. She approached the students, looking between them. She nodded. "Each of you, step up to your brooms," she ordered.

The brooms were lined up, split into two columns, and were several feet apart. Each student stepped up to their respective brooms, now looking nervous rather than excited. Aralynn looked down at the knobby training broom, and studied the skewed sticks at the bottom. She figured that it wouldn't be too hard for her to manage this broom. The brooms that her mother and father had been able to provide for them—which they were all very grateful for—looked about the same, maybe worse. While she might have been able to get the brooms at home into her hand; she was unsure of her capabilities at this moment. More than anything, she was afraid of embarrassing herself. She shouldn't have been—they were all inexperienced. Yet, there was this unusual desire blazing inside of her for her to be able to prove herself.

"Right," began Madam Hooch. "Now, place your hands over your brooms. With force, I want you to call the broom into your hand with a simple: 'Up!'"

The children looked between one another warily but followed Madam Hooch's instruction. Aralynn looked down at her broom, trying to focus all of her energy into pulling it into her hand. Filling herself with intent, she inhaled, and stated, "Up!"

Simultaneously, Harry and Aralynn's brooms immediately shot into their hands. They looked at one another, then looked back to their brooms. Clearly, they were both extremely shocked. How could this happen; so quickly and naturally? Aralynn couldn't remember this happening any other time she had ridden a broom.

_Great_, Aralynn thought. _Another unanswered question_.

Once the rest of the students had their brooms in hand, Madam Hooch gave them further instruction to mount them, lean forward slightly, hover, and then come back down. The students had less issue with this, but Harry, Aralynn, and Draco Malfoy had gotten up the easiest. They eased their brooms back down… all of them aside for Neville Longbottom. On the other hand, Neville seemed to have lost all control of his broom. He kept rising higher and higher, until he had tilted off the side and came plummeting back down.

Madam Hooch swept over to Neville, examined him, and gave a few tuts. "Stay perfectly still as I escort Mister Longbottom to the Hospital Wing. If _any_ of you even _dare_ to pick up these brooms and mount them, you will be removed from Hogwarts _immediately_."

Then, she walked off with a hand dragging Neville along by his elbow.

Aralynn shuffled over to Harry and Ron, shaking her head. "Poor Neville."

"Yeah," Ron said with a shake of his head. "Useless, that one."

"That's rude," Aralynn hissed. "He's new, and he's learning. Don't act superior."

Ron rolled his eyes, but proceeded to shut his mouth. One argument Ron knew he would never win was when Aralynn adamantly determined that people deserved the benefit of the doubt. "Well, anyway," Ron grumbled. "How is it, Harry? Y'know, starting to fly?"

"Brilliant," answered Harry with a smile. "Feels natural."

"Your broom came to you really quickly," Ron told him. "You _must_ be a natural!"

"I… guess I am," Harry replied humbly.

"You have incredible control for someone who's never flown before," Aralynn told him. "Hey, maybe you could try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team next year!"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "What's Quidditch?"

Ron looked offended, until he realized that Harry was new to the wizarding world. "It's a very famous and popular wizarding sport."

"Teams have seven players," Aralynn added. "A Seeker, two Beaters, three Chasers, and one Keeper."

"Just so you know—the Chudley Cannons are the _best_ Quidditch team," said Ron.

Aralynn leaned over to Harry, whispering: "No, they aren't."

Harry grinned at Aralynn. "Well, how do you _play_ Quidditch?"

"It's all in the air," Ron told him. "There are three goals on each side of a Quidditch pitch, and the teams try to score on each other."

"Kind of like football," Harry nodded.

"Like _what_?"

Harry shook his head. "Nevermind. Go on."

"A game is won when a Seeker catches the Golden Snitch. The Snitch gives the catching team one-hundred-and-fifty points."

Aralynn nodded. "If the Snitch is never caught, the game can go on for _ages_."

Harry opened his mouth to ask another question, but his attention was caught by the rest of the class congregated together. "What's going on over there?"

Ron, Aralynn, and Harry wandered over to the crowd. Aralynn stopped at Hermione's side, looking at her. "What's going on, Hermione?"

"Do you remember when Neville received a parcel from his grandmother with a Remembrall in it?"

Aralynn nodded.

Hermione sighed. "Well, it seems that it had slipped out of his robes when he fell. Draco found it."

Aralynn's attention was caught by Harry marching straight over to Draco, who was flaunting his newfound find. "What an idiot," said Draco. "Can't keep track of anything, can he? Has he lost that stupid frog again yet?"

"Give it to me, Malfoy," said Harry sternly. He held out his hand, waiting for Draco to place the Remembrall in his palm.

Draco scoffed. "No," he said simply. "Perhaps Longbottom would have remembered to fall on his fat arse if he could ever keep his head on straight. You know what? I think I'll leave it somewhere for him find. How about on the roof?" He mounted his broom, flying around the crowd. "What d'you think, Potter? Think he'll _remember_ it's gone?"

"Malfoy, if you don't give me the Remembrall, I'll come up there and knock you off of your broom!" Harry hissed, preparing to mount his broom as well.

Hermione, Ron, and Aralynn strode over to Harry. "Careful," Aralynn warned.

Draco sniggered. "Well, if you're going to act like _that_. Fetch!" He then threw the Remembrall with full force towards the castle.

Harry mounted the broom, flying into the air after Neville's trinket.

"Harry!" Hermione called. "You'll be _expelled_!"

Aralynn went to mount her broom as well to go after the Remembrall with Harry, but she was stopped by Hermione. "Don't," she hissed. "Don't _you_ be a fool, too."

Per Hermione's insistence, Aralynn remained on the ground with the rest of the crowd. They collectively watched as Harry darted on his broom towards the castle. Just as he was about to crash into the wall, he took hold of the Remembrall, flipped in the air, and steadied himself. Even from the ground, it was obvious that he was sporting a satisfied grin. He came flying back down, triumphantly waving the marble-sized ball in the air. "I've got it!"

The students rushed Harry, lifting him into the air briefly once he landed. "That was _incredibly _stupid!" Hermione told him.

"But brave," Aralynn interjected, smiling at Harry.

Hermione glared at Aralynn, but there was a small smile peeking at her lips.

The cheer was suddenly disrupted when Professor McGonagall strode over. Her lips were pursed sternly, and her eyes seemed to be blazing with fury. "Harry Potter!" she shouted. "Come with me, _now_."

Harry went pale and swallowed the lump in his throat. He handed the Remembrall to Aralynn. "Be sure to give that to Neville," he muttered to her before following behind Professor McGonagall.

Ron stopped at Aralynn's side, frowning. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "He's doomed."

* * *

When Madam Hooch returned and was told about the situation that arose between Draco and Harry, and about Harry being escorted away by Professor McGonagall, class was ended abruptly. She assured them that their flying lessons would resume once the students learned to behave and follow instruction. Aralynn, Ron, and Hermione strode through the corridors. There was a significant amount of time before their next class, and they decided to discuss what would become of Harry instead.

"He's going to be expelled for _sure_," said Hermione. "There's no way he'll get away with that."

"McGonagall would be _mad_ to expel him," argued Ron. "He's _Harry Potter_. He's the Boy Who Lived against You-Know-Who. She can't just expel him."

"She can!" Hermione shouted. "He broke the _rules_."

Aralynn shook her head. "There's no sense in arguing about whether or Harry should or can be expelled. We should be hoping that he isn't. Harry deserves to be at Hogwarts with the rest of us."

They roamed through the corridors for some time before Harry finally rejoined them. Instead of looking downtrodden, he was quite cheerful. The three stared at him, expecting some kind of explanation, but he seemed too distracted by his own thoughts.

Hermione finally decided to garner his attention. "You seem rather cheery for someone who was likely expelled."

"Oh," Harry blinked, shaking his head. "No, I wasn't expelled."

"What happened then?" asked Aralynn.

"I'm on the Quidditch team!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm the new _Seeker_!"

"What?" Ron questioned incredulously. "First-years _never_ make the team. They _never_ pass tryouts!"

Harry shrugged, but was still giddy. "McGonagall said my skills were quite notable."

Aralynn tilted her head. "You must be the youngest Seeker in…"

"—A century," Harry nodded, smiling brightly.

They were soon joined by Fred and George, who slapped Harry on the back.

"Congrats, Potter!" exclaimed George.

"Wood just announced it to the team!" added Fred.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, looking between Aralynn and Ron.

"They're on the team, too," said Aralynn.

"Beaters," nodded Ron.

"A Beater's job is to make sure none of the players get roughed up too badly or knocked off their brooms!" said Fred.

"No guarantees," added George. "Quidditch is a _brutal_ game."

Fred nodded. "Rough, but no worries—nobody has died in a _long_ time."

The elder Weasley twins wandered away, leaving Harry looking soberer than he had before. His face had been flushed of color.

Aralynn placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Harry. You'll be great."

"What if I'm not?" Harry countered. "I mean, I'm new to flying, and I've never played Quidditch before. I could be rubbish! I could lose all the games!"

"You won't," said Hermione. "Quidditch talent is in your blood."

Ron jerked his attention to Hermione. "She knows more about us than _we_ do."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Follow me."

Harry and the Weasley twins followed Hermione through the corridors. She was walking with such a sure step in her foot that she was going much faster than they were. They were jogging to catch up to her. Abruptly, Hermione had stopped outside of a showcase. They three blundered into the back of her, having not expected her to pause.

Hermione waved her arm to the showcase. "Look."

The three peered into the showcase, which housed Quidditch trophies throughout the years. One plaque, in particular, had the name of Harry's father engraved on the shield-shaped gold.

_James Potter. Chaser._

Ron gaped. "How come you never told us that your father was a Chaser, Harry?"

Aralynn glared at Ron. "He didn't _know_."

Harry was shaking his head. "I can't believe this. I _am_ a natural."

"You'll be great at Quidditch, Harry," said Hermione. "So long as you don't get yourself expelled."

Aralynn looked upon Harry's face, who was now smiling. It was more of a sorrowful smile than a joyful one. It had to be hard for him to learn things piece by piece about his parents, instead of already knowing it. He had never had the opportunity to learn who his parents were, and what they did while at Hogwarts. She could tell that he was proud to be following in his father's footsteps but dispirited that he couldn't share the news.

* * *

After finishing their classes for the day, the four regrouped in the corridors. It was getting late, and they would need to be heading back to their dormitories soon. They shared what they had learned from their professors. Hermione was talking the most eagerly about their curriculum. She was clearly enjoying Hogwarts far more than the rest of them. Perhaps Aralynn, too, would have been equally as enthusiastic about their coursework… if she hadn't spent the entire semester distracted by her own questions, and by the words of people who seemed to know her more than she did. She was talking animatedly about Charms while they walked up one of the staircases.

"—Professor Flitwick's lessons are truly incredible. He's an amazing professor, really. I think I've learned the most from that class than any others. We'll be learning the levitation charm soon; did you guys know that? Within the next few weeks, I've heard. I've been talking with Professor Flitwick privately about advanced lessons. He said he would consider teaching me more next year, but I told him I've been studying on my own, too. He was quite proud. He said that I'm one of the most promising first-year students, along with Aralynn, of course. Oh! I told him that I've learned a rather advanced charm, the—"

Hermione suddenly went quiet when the staircase jerked from its position. It began to shift away from the landing they needed to step off on to get back to their dormitories. The four of them latched onto the railings. "What's going on?" Ron asked.

"The staircase is moving," said Aralynn. "They change, remember?"

Once the staircase came to a stop, Harry exhaled a short breath. "Let's get off before they decide to move again."

They hurried off of the staircase, shaking off the brief fear that they had felt when it had unexpectedly soared away. They opened the door before them, entering an unlit room. They looked around, trying to peer through the darkness. "Where are we?" asked Harry.

"I don't know," said Ron. "I'm getting a weird feeling, though."

"Like we're not supposed to be here," added Aralynn.

"This is the third floor," said Hermione. "We're _not_ supposed to be here. It's _forbidden_. Oh, we need to get out of here before we get expelled!"

Aralynn had her eyes locked on something down the corridor. She swallowed hard, tapping the three others a couple of times. "We _might_ get expelled," she told them. When they looked at her, she pointed down the corridor, where a pair of yellow lamp-like eyes sat, staring them down. A flame burst alive to reveal that the eyes were owned by a cat, who sat there flicking its tail back and forth. The cat stood, beginning to meow loudly.

"It's Mrs. Norris!" Ron hissed. "We have to get out of here, before Filch comes!"

Harry tugged on the sleeves of their robes. "Run!"

The three of them took off toward the opposite end of the corridor, running as fast as their legs would allow. They rammed into a door at the end of the hall. Ron desperately fidgeted with the handle, but it wouldn't open. "It's locked!"

Aralynn looked to Hermione. "_Standard Book of Spells_," she said to her. "Chapter seven!"

Suddenly, Hermione perked up. She shoved her way between the boys, waving her wand at the handle. "_Alohomora_," she whispered. She opened the door and the three of them shoved inside. They carefully closed the door behind them, holding their breaths as they heard Filch's footsteps lingering around the door.

"Did you see someone, Mrs. Norris?" he asked the cat, who mewled back. "Let's see if they've gone this way."

Once the footsteps faded away, they exhaled sharply, feeling relieved. Aralynn pressed her palm to her chest, feeling the rapid beating of her heart. "That was _close_."

Hermione nodded. "_Too_ close."

"We have to get out of here before Filch circles back," Harry said. "We have to get back to the dormitories. Thankfully he didn't look here. He thinks the door is still locked. Why was it locked?"

Ron gulped and raised a shaky hand. "_That's why_."

Harry, Hermione, and Aralynn turned away from the door to see whatever it was that Ron was pointing at. Once they turned, their eyes traveled upwards to see three massive dog heads. They were paralyzed with fear, and even more so when they realize the three heads were attached to _one_ body. The heads bared their teeth, beginning to growl. Finally realizing what was before them, they began to scream. Aralynn jerked the door open and the four went toddling out when the dog's heads began snapping at them. They collectively used their weight to shove the door back until it locked once more.

Again, they took off at a run. They ran down the corridor, back to the staircases, and navigated the halls until they found their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. They hurried through the portrait hole before they could stop the catch their breaths. "Bloody _hell_!" Ron exclaimed. "Are these people mad!? Keeping a monster like _that_ locked in a _school_… a school with_ children_!"

Aralynn leaned forward, placing her palms on her knees. She heaved in desperate breaths of fresh air. "It wasn't there for no reason," she told him. "It's a guard dog."

"Guard dog?" Harry questioned.

"It was standing on a door," Hermione added with a nod. "It was protecting something."

"How did you _notice_?" asked Ron, exasperated. "I was a little preoccupied looking at its _heads_!"

Hermione glowered at him. "It's not _my_ fault you're oblivious!" She straightened her robes and marched up the staircase to the dormitories. "I'm going to bed before you two get us killed! Or _expelled_!"

Aralynn coughed through her lack of breath. She stood straight and smiled at the boys. "Don't mind her. She's really concerned with her education." She turned her back, following Hermione into their dormitory. The two didn't speak, but Hermione was muttering angrily under her breath while she changed into her nightwear. Aralynn changed but couldn't manage to fall asleep. Instead, she sat in the sill of the window, looking out onto Hogwarts's grounds as rain flooded the grass.

She brought her knees up to her chest, thinking back to the three-headed dog and the trapdoor it was standing on. She wondered what was so important that it needed to be protected by such a beast. Then she thought about the vault that Harry had mentioned. It had been broken into _after_ it had already been emptied. Could the item in the vault have been what the dog was guarding?


	10. A Halloween Troll

Since the incident with the three-headed dog, Hermione hadn't stopped talking about it. She unfailingly investigated what it could possibly be guarding, and why such a valuable item would be hidden at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to begin with. Aralynn listened eagerly to her thoughts but said nothing. She wasn't sure if she wanted to offer her theories. Not because she wanted to keep them to herself, but because she didn't want to make a fool of herself by suggesting a dead-end theory. Harry and Ron didn't seem to be quite as interested in what could be hidden under the trapdoor. Ron was too preoccupied with the thought of Halloween. He was constantly going on about the upcoming feast and the candy that would come with it. It was uncertain where Harry's mind was, but it surely wasn't with the rest of them.

As they walked to their Charms class together, Hermione told them all about the charm Professor Flitwick told her that they would be learning about. "It's the levitation charm," she told them. "I mentioned it a few weeks ago. We're _finally_ learning it. Aren't you excited?"

"Oh, bursting at the seams," Ron said sarcastically. "It's just another charm, Hermione. How excited can you _really_ be?"

Hermione blistered. "Exceedingly excited, considering I happen to value my education."

Ron rolled his eyes. "We get it, Hermione—you're smart. There's no need to rub everyone's nose in it."

Aralynn lodged her elbow into Ron's side. "She's _not_ rubbing our noses in it, Ronald. She's simply excited to learn more. There's nothing wrong with being excited about classes."

Hermione offered Aralynn a small smile. "Thank you."

The redhead gleamed at her friend, shuffling through the door to Professor Flitwick's classroom. She took her seat next to Harry. She placed her _Standard Book of Spells_ textbook on the table before her, waiting for the professor to begin his lecture. Harry seemed somewhere far away. Aralynn eyed him. "You okay, Harry?"

Harry jerked his attention over. "Oh, yeah," he told her. "I'm alright. Just thinking about that dog. You and Hermione said that it was guarding something, but I can't help but wonder _what_ it's guarding."

Aralynn bit her lip. "I have a theory."

His attention was focused on her now. "What's your theory, Aralynn?"

"You mentioned that Hagrid picked something up from a vault at Gringotts when he took you to Diagon Alley," she began. "He said that it was important, and then… someone broke into that same vault—after it was already emptied. Someone _really_ wanted it. Maybe _that's_ what the dog is guarding."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, turning Aralynn's words over in his head. "It's a fair theory. You could be right."

Professor Flitwick, a very short man, climbed atop a large stack of books he had piled on top of his desk. "Attention, class!" he called out. He waited for the students to settle. "Today we will be learning the levitation charm. We've been practicing the precise wrist movement these past few weeks, and today we'll be attempting the spell itself. Now, remember—swish, and _flick_. Go on."

Aralynn picked up her willow wood wand, following the swish-and-flick movement the professor had ordered them to practice. He noted Hermione and Aralynn's smooth actions, asking the rest of the students to follow their example. Aralynn blushed.

"Don't forget to enunciate _very_ clearly. There is no room for error when it comes to charms," said Flitwick. "Say it with me: _Wingardium Leviosa._"

The students repeated the incantation with him several times. "Very nice, now try to make the feathers before you levitate. Remember: _Wingardium Leviosa_."

Before Aralynn could speak the incantation, her eyes were drawn to Ron. He was almost smacking the feather with his wand. "_Wingardrium Leviosar_!"

Hermione grabbed his wrist. "Swish and _flick_, Ronald. If you keep waving your wand like that, you're going to poke someone's eye out. Besides, you're saying it _wrong_. It's _Wingardium Leviosa_, it's not _Wingardrium Leviosar_."

Ron scowled at her. "You're so full of yourself," he grumbled. "If you think you're _so_ smart and clever, why don't _you_ do it? I bet you think you're the only one who could."

"No," Hermione said, smiling over at Aralynn. "I'm sure she could, too."

Aralynn stammered over her words, trying to express that she really wasn't sure she'd be capable. She knew that she was bright, just as Hermione was, but she had been doubting herself quite a bit lately. "Oh, I don't know," she finally managed.

Hermione shook her head. "Nonsense. Come on, do it with me, Ara."

Aralynn glanced over to Harry, finally picking up her wand when he nodded her on encouragingly. She watched Hermione, moving her wand in unison and repeated with her: "_Wingardium Leviosa_."

Their feathers began to levitate, rising higher and higher per their wand's beckoning. Ron shook his head and looked away, resting his head atop his textbooks. They slowly lowered their feathers back down. Professor Flitwick clapped his hands. "Excellent!" he exclaimed. "Look, class—Miss Granger and Miss Weasley have done it! They have successfully demonstrated the charm! Well done, dears."

* * *

Once class had ended, the students piled out of the room and into the courtyard. Ron was walking alongside Harry, and Aralynn was walking with Hermione. Ron must not have realized the girls were behind them, because he had begun mocking Hermione. "It's _Leviosa_," he mimicked. "Not _Leviosar_!"

Some of the boys walking with them, including Seamus Finnegan, Neville Longbottom, and Dean Thomas snickered at his attempt to duplicate Hermione's voice. Ron continued, though Aralynn wished he hadn't. "She's so pretentious, I swear. She's a _nightmare_. No wonder she hasn't got any friends."

Hermione's eyes had begun to well with tears. Aralynn rubbed her back gently.

"Aralynn is Hermione's friend," Neville pointed out.

Ron scoffed. "No, she isn't. Ara just pities her. She thinks Hermione is annoying, too. She's only being her friend because she feels bad for her. She knows that nobody _else_ has interest in Hermione."

Hermione jerked her attention to Aralynn. "That's _not_ true," said Aralynn.

"I know," Hermione nodded, wiping at her eyes. "I want to be alone." She quickened her pace, shoving through the boys, trying to mask the sounds of her weeping as she hurried away.

Aralynn's blood boiled. She, too, shoved through the boys, whipped around, and stopped directly in front of Ron. "What is _wrong_ with you, Ronald?" she demanded. "You're _so_ insensitive! She could _hear_ you!"

Ron's ears went red, but he shrugged it off dismissively. "So? At least now she knows."

Even though Aralynn knew that he didn't quite mean that, she was still livid. She couldn't bring herself to think rationally. "You're an _ass_, Ronald Weasley!" She took her _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ textbook and bashed him upside the head with it. "You had better find Hermione and apologize immediately!"

She turned sharply on her heel, storming away from the boys. She spent the rest of the day trying to find Hermione, but she couldn't. She checked everywhere she could think to look—classrooms, the courtyard, the grounds, but she was nowhere to be found. The last place she could think to look was in the girls' lavatory. She reached out to open the door before Parvati Patil exited. She stumbled, then looked over. "Oh, Aralynn. I was about to come look for you. If you're trying to find Hermione, she's inside. I guess she's been in there crying all day."

"Thank you, Parvati," Aralynn said, entering the loo. She went to the only stall where the door was closed and knocked gently on the wood. "Hermione?" she called softly. "Are you alright?"

Hermione sniffled. "I-I'm fine," she said. "I don't mean to be rude, but I-I kind of want to be alone right now. Is that okay?"

Aralynn frowned, gently touching the wood. She wished she could console Hermione. "Of course," she said. "I'll leave you be. If you're feeling any better; come to the feast, okay? You should eat something before the night is over, and besides… it's a holiday."

There was shuffling from inside the stall. "Thanks, Ara."

The Weasley girl sighed. "Try to feel better," she said before turning and leaving the lavatory.

* * *

The Great Hall was buzzing with the loud chatter of students and faculty who were enlivened with the celebrations underway. Lit jack-o-lanterns were levitating in the stead of the usual candles. The ceiling, enchanted to mirror the night's sky, was clear and twinkling brightly with stars. The walls were decorated with streams of banners, and spooky decorations of all kinds—crows, bats, and undead creatures of any sort. The Hogwarts ghosts were even sporting costumes. The tables blossomed with dazzling shades of colors, centerpieces of candy lined the center of each house's seating area. Aralynn strode over to Ron and Harry, who were gorging themselves with the prepared feast.

Aralynn sat across from the boys but made a point to ignore Ron. "Just so everyone here knows—I found Hermione. She's in the girls' bathroom. She's been crying all day."

Ron went red but remained silent. Harry was frowning. "Is she okay?"

Aralynn shrugged. "I can't say. She wanted to be alone." She gave Ron a pointed look.

Harry grabbed an empty plate, beginning to fill it with food. "Well, we can save this for her. I'm sure she'll be hungry when she's feeling better."

"That's a great idea, Harry," said Aralynn, smiling.

"Tell her 'Happy Halloween' for me, will you? Happy Halloween to you, too."

She nodded. "I will. Happy Halloween, Harry."

Ron cleared his throat. "Well, Ara, you should really eat something."

Aralynn shifted her blazing eyes towards Ron. "Don't talk to me until you've apologized to Hermione. You've been nothing but cruel to her this semester. She's a very kind person. She cares about all of us, even though I don't think we really deserve it."

Ron looked away, returning to the feast before him.

Aralynn gathered some food and began eating. Fred and George ambled on over, sitting between their sister. They huddled together, doing their best to squish her. "Hey there, Flame Brain," they said together. George added: "How's school going?"

Aralynn exhaled shortly, struggling to breathe from the pressure of her elder brothers pressing into her sides. "It's going well," she told them. "I've gotten excellent marks in my classes so far. They could be better, but I'm catching up."

"Mum will be proud to hear that," said Fred.

"Oh, ecstatic," agreed George. "We've been writing with Charlie and Bill."

"They're _always_ asking about you," said Fred.

"Ron, too," George said, but in passing.

"Why haven't they sent me an owl?"

The twins shrugged. "Can't say," they said together.

At that moment, Amete came fluttering in. She rested and sat upon Aralynn's shoulder, nibbling at her hair a few times before flying away. Aralynn laughed. "I guess she wanted to say hello."

Fred and George turned their attention on Ron. "What about you, baby brother? Have you failed yet?"

"Coming soon," George snickered.

"The Weasley Family disgrace!" laughed Fred.

Ron snarled. "Shove it! I'm doing okay in my classes!"

"What about exams?" asked Fred.

George grinned. "They're at the end of the year, Ronnie. D'you think you'll pass those?"

Ron furrowed his eyebrows. "I have time."

The boys rolled their eyes. Fred was looking around, trying to figure out what was missing from the table. "Hey—where's the smart one? The girl with the bushy hair?"

"Hermione," Aralynn said. "She's in the bathroom."

George raised an eyebrow. "Upset stomach?"

Aralynn shook her head. "She's been crying."

"A shame!" Fred exclaimed. "Why is that?"

Aralynn looked at her twin brother. "Ronald was talking to the boys after Charms class and said that Hermione was a nightmare who has no friends."

"You're her friend," George pointed out.

"Yes, well, he said that I was only pretending to be her friend because I pity her. We were behind him. She heard everything. She's been in the loo since."

Fred and George turned on Ron. "Why would you say something like that?"

Ron reddened. "I… was annoyed."

"You ought to be nicer, Ron," said George.

Fred nodded. "We may be jokesters, but they're harmless."

"I didn't mean it!" Ron shouted.

"I'm sure it _felt_ like you meant it," said George.

"I'm telling Mum," said Fred.

Ron paled. "No, please!"

The twins shook their head. "Expect a Howler soon, Ickle Ronniekins."

When they wandered away, Ron huffed at his sister. "_Why_ would you tell them? Now Mum is going to send me a Howler!"

"It's no less than you deserve!"

Suddenly, the doors to the Great Hall flew open. Professor Quirrell came running down the center aisle, looking flushed and panicked. "TROLL!" he shouted. "TROLL IN THE DUNGEON! _TROLL_ IN THE _DUNGEON_!" Just before the platform where the faculty sat, he came to a stop. He stood stagnantly but swayed uneasily. "Thought you'd ought to know." Then, he toppled over, unconscious.

The room was silent while everybody processed the information that had just been thrown at them. Once they fully realized what Quirrell had said, the students collectively erupted with blood-curdling screams that filled the hall. Students were standing, running around frantic, panicking as much as they could panic.

Headmaster Dumbledore stood, raising his hands. He raised his voice more than any of them had ever heard before. "SILENCE!" he called to the hall. The students came to a faltering, and silent, stop. Their eyes were now on Dumbledore. "Please, do not panic. This situation will be handled. Prefects, please lead your houses back to their dormitories immediately. Faculty, I would have you accompany me to the dungeons."

Percy Weasley gathered the Gryffindor students together, leading them out of the Great Hall. "Stay together!" he ordered. "Keep up!" The students were huddled close to Percy, following as he led them away from the Great Hall. Ron and Harry were somewhat behind the group, but still close enough. Aralynn moved with them, then suddenly stopped. She remembered that Hermione was in the restroom and had no idea what was happening.

She turned, running down the hall. Harry had moved to speak to her when he noticed that she was running in the opposite direction. He grabbed Ron and dragged him after her. "Aralynn!" called Harry. "What are you doing?"

"Hermione doesn't know!" Aralynn called back.

Alarmed by this, Harry and Ron ran quicker to catch up with her. They turned a corner, hearing screaming coming from the girls' bathroom. They shuffled inside and stopped in their tracks. With its back turned, there stood a gigantic mountain troll who wielded a large club. The stench coming from the creature was foul and putrid. The stalls had been damaged by the troll, presumably from swinging at Hermione. Aralynn looked to the sinks, where some were broken. Hermione was curled into herself, hiding underneath one. The troll, who had noticed her, was getting ready to strike yet again.

"Hermione, move!" Aralynn called.

The girl crawled away from the sink just in time. The troll had bashed the one she was under with its club only seconds later. Aralynn ran forward, grabbing a stray plank of wood that had belonged to one of the stalls. She threw it at the troll's head. Ron and Harry joined in, trying to get its attention.

"Over here!" cried Harry.

"Hey! Pea brain!" shouted Ron, throwing a discarded piece of sink at its head. It stalled, turning to look at Ron. The boy stumbled back, staring as the beast raised its club.

Aralynn jumped up and grabbed onto the club, shrieking when it lifted her into the air. "Harry!" she cried. "Do something!"

Harry pulled out his wand, trying to figure out what to do. "Get off the club!"

The girl glanced around, trying to figure out where to go. She crawled up the club and latched herself onto the troll's upper-arm. When it noticed that she was there, it tried to smack her off. She screamed, doing her best to avoid being crushed by its massive hand. "Ron! Harry! _Help_!"

Harry grabbed onto the club when it came back down. The troll lifted it too quickly, causing Harry to fall off. He landed on the monster's shoulders, holding tightly onto its head when it tried to shake him off. The force of the troll's movement was so intense that it launched Aralynn off. She slammed into the wall, then hit the ground. She lifted her head up as well as she could, weary and pained from the collision. Luckily, she was still conscious.

Now, the troll had Harry's leg in its hand. It kept trying to hit Harry with the club.

"Ron, help him!" she said, voice hoarse.

"What do I do!?" Ron sputtered.

Aralynn thought for a moment. "Levitation! Ron, the charm!"

Ron looked desperately at Hermione, who showed him the wrist movement again. "Swish and flick!" she said.

"Enunciate!" Aralynn called.

Ron mustered up as much courage as he could. He waved his wand and shouted: "_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

The club was now hovering above the troll's head. It went to hit Harry again and was confused when nothing happened. It looked to its empty opposite hand, then up. The club came plummeting down, hitting it atop the head. It wavered before coming crashing down, now unconscious. Harry flew from its grasp.

Once he was on the ground, he stood up and brushed his robes off. He hurried over to Aralynn and pulled her to her feet. When their hands touched, she felt something unusual—some sense of familiarity—some sort of bond. However, her body ached far too much for her to question it. Aralynn tottered over to Ron, patting him on the back. "Nice work."

Hermione emerged, meeting with the three of them. "Is it… is it _dead_?"

Aralynn shook her head. "Knocked out."

Professor McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell came rushing in. The three of them stopped, looking at the unconscious troll on the floor. McGonagall gaped. "Oh!" she gasped. "What happened!? Explain yourselves!"

Harry, Aralynn, and Ron stammered to find the right words—any sort of explanation to give. Hermione stepped forward. "This was _my_ doing, Professor."

The three teachers looked at her. "I beg your pardon?" Snape sneered.

Hermione took a deep breath. "When I heard about the troll, I went looking for it. I've read about them—a _lot_ about them. I thought that I would be able to handle it. I tried to battle with it, but it overpowered me. Harry, Ron, and Aralynn came in just in time. If they hadn't… well, I'd probably be dead."

McGonagall sniffed. "Miss Granger, I had expected better of you! Do you realize how _foolish_ it was for you to seek out such a dangerous creature? I am taking five points from Gryffindor for your _serious_ recklessness. Not many eleven-year-old children would be able to take on a fully-grown mountain troll and _survive_. As for you three—" She paused, looking between Harry and the Weasley siblings. "I award each of you five points… for sheer _dumb_ luck! Back to your dormitories! _Immediately_!"

The four Gryffindor students shuffled out of the bathroom quickly. They didn't bother to look behind as they made their way back to the Common Room. They were all silent until they went through the portrait hole. Hermione moved ahead of the group, then turned to them. "I can't thank you all enough," she said. "I meant what I said to McGonagall. I probably _would_ be dead, if you hadn't come for me."

Aralynn smiled weakly at Hermione. "That's what friends are for."

Hermione glanced between Harry and Ron. "You're both my friends?"

Harry smiled brightly. "Of course, Hermione."

She looked at Ron, who was silent. Ron shifted his weight and rubbed his hands together. "Yeah," he said. "_Best_ friends."

Hermione decided to take that as his apology.

That night, none of the four were able to sleep. They thought about their encounter with the troll and how they had somehow managed to survive. Moreover, they felt a strong bond molding between each of them. Perhaps before Hermione would have only regarded Aralynn as her friend, but now she thought of Harry and Ron as the same. Even Ron was holding Hermione in the same regard. They hadn't quite yet realized that this particular incident would be the mortar solidifying their lifelong friendship. One day, there would come a day when they realized that their friendships were more than random—but fate.


	11. The Golden Boy

The amount of sleep Aralynn Weasley had gotten since Halloween was positively dismal. Despite her exhaustion, she was still managing to keep up with her classes. It wasn't the mountain troll that had been keeping her awake. Of course, during the moment, she was certain that she was going to die. For a few short days after the battle with the creature; she had suffered from nightmares. Nevertheless, she had since relinquished the fear she had experienced that night. The reason for her lack of sleep was because of Harry—Harry and the connection that had sparked between them in the girls' lavatory. There hadn't been enough time while facing off with the troll for her to really put stock into what had happened. However, she had since had an ample amount of time to reflect.

Memory of the connection had come back to her in a dream. The scene was exactly as it had been, only, when Aralynn and Harry's hands touched; the rest of the world seemed to fade away. There was something of a spotlight on their linked hands. Even while asleep, the spark of their contact bolted through Aralynn's body, causing her to wake. The dream became a reoccurrence and severely hindered her ability to get a full night's rest.

Hermione, ever observant, had noticed the exhaustion peeking out underneath Aralynn's eyes. The questioning began the morning before the first Quidditch game of the season—between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Harry was on edge, and Ron noticed, but Hermione seemed to hone in on Aralynn.

"You don't look well," Hermione said.

Aralynn chuckled. "Thank you, Hermione."

The girl reddened. "Oh, I only mean—you look like you haven't been sleeping well."

The redhead waved her hand. "I know what you meant, 'Mione."

Hermione nodded. "Well… what's wrong?"

"Nothing more than a dream," Aralynn told her.

"Not a nightmare?"

Aralynn shook her head. "Not a nightmare."

Ron had been watching Harry, who was doing nothing more than poking at his breakfast. The boy frowned, pushing the plate toward his friend. "You should eat something, Harry," he told the black-haired boy. "You'll need your strength for the game."

"I'm not worried about Quidditch," Harry told him. "I mean, I am, but… my mind is elsewhere."

Aralynn looked over at Harry, silently hoping that he, too, had noticed their sparked connection, and was cycling through the same questions she was. "Where?"

Hermione centered her attention on Harry as well.

Harry Potter sighed. "When some of the professors came in after we knocked the troll out, I saw that Professor Snape's leg was bleeding."

Aralynn was disappointed, but quickly shoved it away and looked curiously at Harry. "Is that suspicious?"

"It wasn't," said Harry, glancing over to Snape—who was walking down an aisle between the tables. "Until now. He's limping."

Hermione stared at him. "What's your point, Harry?"

"When we were learning the levitation charm, Aralynn told me that she thought that whatever Hagrid retrieved from the vault at Gringotts is what the three-headed dog is guarding," Harry explained. "What if Snape let the troll in as a diversion so that he could head up to the third floor, and try to make it past the dog?"

"You think that Snape would suffer that dog for whatever it's guarding?" asked Hermione.

Harry shrugged. "It would make sense."

"_Why_, though?" questioned Ron.

"I dunno," answered Harry. "That's what I have to find out."

Aralynn blinked. "What _we_ have to find out."

Harry seemed surprised. "We?"

Hermione nodded, smiling. "We're in this together, Harry."

In the distance, there was an owl screeching. Their attention was drawn to Hedwig, Harry's snowy owl. She was flying toward them, carrying a long parcel within her talons. Hermione glanced at Harry. "Isn't it a bit early for mail?"

"I wouldn't know," Harry told her. "I've never gotten mail."

Aralynn studied it. "Well, go on, Harry. Open it."

Harry began to open the parcel and Ron quickly jumped in, helping him tear the wrappings off. Once the paper was gone, there was a broom lying upon the table. Harry was gaping at it. "Someone sent me a broom!"

Ron shook his head. "Not just _any_ broom, Harry! This is the newest model—the Nimbus 2000!"

Harry was in awe. He couldn't believe that someone had sent him mail at all—let alone a broom, and the newest and fastest model of broom, at that. "Who would do this?" he asked. "I don't know anyone who would send me a broom!"

Aralynn picked up a note that was attached to it. "Could be from whoever left this."

Harry looked embarrassed. "Right," he muttered. He took the note and opened it, reading over the words. "It's from Professor McGonagall!"

Draco Malfoy was ambling by. When he noticed the broom, he turned on his heel, and stared at it. "What?" he hissed. "First years aren't allowed to have brooms!" He reached out to grab it, but Aralynn smacked his hand.

"Harry is allowed one," she said matter-of-factly. "He's on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team."

Draco was outraged. "That's impossible!"

Hermione turned her nose up. "He owes it to you, really. McGonagall noticed his talent when he went after Neville's Remembrall."

Furious, Draco went to report the forbidden item to the nearest professor—Flitwick. However, Professor Flitwick didn't seem to be paying attention to him. Instead, he was standing alongside some students that had since gathered around Harry; admiring the broom with them.

Aralynn smirked at Draco before he stormed away. She turned back to Harry. "The match will be starting soon. You should find the other team members and prepare."

Renewed of his gusto, Harry shoveled his breakfast into his mouth and ran off to find the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Aralynn, Ron, and Hermione laughed at his newfound glee—as he was practically bouncing out of the Great Hall.

* * *

When it was time for the match to begin, all of the students and faculty bundled themselves in warm clothing to try their best to stave off the cold November air. Hermione, Ron, and Aralynn walked to the Quidditch Pitch together, following the rest of the Gryffindors. Amongst the crowd was exhilarated prattle. Some of the students were even placing bets on which team they thought would win the match. Most seemed to be betting on Slytherin, if only because Harry was a first-year and a first-time flyer. However, those loyal to Harry who believed in him were insistent that Gryffindor would win. "They have _Harry Potter_," the students would argue. "If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named couldn't defeat him, what makes you think that Slytherin can?"

The Quidditch Pitch was a large arena with several tall, towering spires. Every other stand was decorated with the colors of the teams who were playing the match—green and silver for Slytherin; scarlet and gold for Gryffindor. The students colored the stands with their sported house-centered garb. The various colors seemed to be waving, as they were not forced to sit with their houses, and instead allowed to intermingle.

Aralynn, Ron, and Hermione gathered near Neville Longbottom who, with Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, were waving triangular flags with Harry's face on them. When Ron noticed the flags, he pointed them out to Hermione and Aralynn. The girls laughed.

"A bit creepy," Aralynn chuckled with Hermione nodding.

"His reputation precedes him. He'll always have fans," said Hermione.

"Quiet!" Ron hissed. "The match is starting."

In the center of the arena, Madam Hooch was standing on the ground, speaking to both teams. She then blew on her whistle and tossed the Quaffle into the air, as the Bludgers and Snitch were already zooming around the field, allowing the teams to begin fighting for it. This was also when Lee Jordan, the announcer, began speaking.

"Welcome to the first Quidditch match of the season!" called Lee over loudspeaker. "Opponents this game; Slytherin versus Gryffindor! The Quaffle is up and the match begins!"

The players were dashing around the field on their brooms, showing quick flashes of silver, green, gold, and scarlet whenever they zipped by. The students in the stands were clapping and bouncing excitedly. Half cheered for Slytherin, and half cheered for Gryffindor. The chants bundled together.

"Go, go, Gryffindor!" – "Go, go, Slytherin!"

Aralynn, Hermione, and Ron kept their sights out for Harry. He was higher than the rest of the players, doing his best to spot the Snitch from his height. Aralynn clapped, keeping her eyes on Harry. "Go Harry!"

"Angelina Johnson has the Quaffle!" announced Jordan. Those in the stands turned their attention to watch her. "Excellent dodges from those nasty Slytherin cheaters!"

"—_Jordan_." came McGonagall's warning voice.

"There she goes! She scores! Angelina Johnson scores! Ten points to Gryffindor!"

A Slytherin player dove underneath George, grabbing ahold of the Quaffle. He then threw the ball to their team captain. "Damn, the Quaffle goes to Slytherin; in the hands of Marcus Flint!"

"_Jordan!_"

Lee waved his hand. "Sorry, Professor," he said, watching the game intently. "Flint goes for the score—_OH!_ Blocked by Gryffindor's Keeper, Oliver Wood!"

One of Slytherin's players when to snatch the Quaffle, but they were beaten by their opposing team. Lee was almost leaping over the railing from excitement. "Nice job! Katie Bell has retrieved the Quaffle!"

Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell flew side-by-side, passing the Quaffle back and forth. Ron watched, tilting his head. "What d'you think they're doing?"

"Strategizing," said Aralynn.

"Angelina throws the Quaffle—and through the goal! Ten points to Gryffindor!"

Hermione squealed. "We're winning!"

"The Slytherins look angry," Aralynn pointed out.

Marcus Flint flew over to one of the Slytherin Beaters, plucking the bat from his teammate's hand. A Bludger came waltzing over to Flint, who whacked the ball in Oliver Wood's direction. The Bludger slammed into Wood's stomach, causing him to fall from his broom and into the ground. The crowd gasped.

"CHEATING!" shouted Lee. "That's a foul!"

With the Gryffindor team distracted by Wood's fall, Slytherin managed to score. Flint and another teammate flew to Angelina, shoving themselves against each of her sides to box her in. They rattled her back and forth before falling back, allowing her to slam into one of the towers, fall through the capes, and hit the ground.

Lee turned on the faculty. "They're _cheating_!"

McGonagall glared at him until he went quiet. With Angelina ejected from the game, Slytherin managed to score again. Hermione hit her fist off of the stands' rail. "No!"

Aralynn placed her hand on Hermione's wrist. "Relax. We still have Harry."

Harry, who was floating about the rest of the game, lowered his broom. He looked over the players, seeming as though he were trying to find the Snitch. However, his broom suddenly began to whip back and forth, and buck him from the seat. Aralynn lurched forward, white-knuckling the rail. "Hermione, what's going on!?"

Ron stepped forward, staring at the broom. "It's gonna throw him off!"

Hermione pulled the pair of binoculars that were hanging around her neck up to her eyes. "It looks like someone is jinxing Harry's broom!"

Aralynn shook her head. "Who?"

She scanned the stands with the binoculars. "It's Snape!" she said. "He's muttering something under his breath!"

"What are supposed to do? Harry could die!" Ron whined.

Hermione handed the binoculars to Aralynn. "Keep an eye on Snape. I'll handle it."

Aralynn eyed the binoculars but passed them off to Ron. Her focus was solely on Harry. She wanted to throw herself over the stands and jump onto Harry's broom, hoping that she would be able to do something to help him. She wasn't sure why, but there was a sinking feeling in her stomach. As though, if Harry were to fall from his broom, she would lose something direly important.

Ron brought the binoculars up to his face, looking through the stands to find Hermione. "I can't see her!" he said. "Wait—there she is! She's by Snape now!"

As much as Aralynn wanted to look, she couldn't pull her eyes from Harry. Her breath was hitched in her throat, and her heart was about to burst from her chest. "Come on, Hermione," she whispered under her breath. "Help him."

Suddenly, Harry's broom went still. He was hanging off of the Nimbus, and once it stilled, he climbed atop it again. Aralynn looked to Ron. "What happened?"

"Snape was distracted," he told her. "Hermione set his robes on fire."

Hermione then reappeared from shoving her way through the crowd. Aralynn smiled brightly at her. "Brilliant, Hermione. Truly."

Hermione beamed at her, but then frowned. "You're crying, Ara."

Aralynn reached up to touch her wet eyes. "I guess I am. I didn't know."

Once Harry regained control of his broom, he noticed that the Slytherin Seeker was chasing after something. As he figured it was the Snitch, he went following after him. Hermione, who was standing between Ron and Aralynn, grasped their hands. "Go, Harry!"

Harry and Terence Higgs were side-by-side now, bashing back and forth into each other. They dove down, going after the small golden ball that was must faster than they were. They were nearing closer and closer to the ground. For a moment, it looked as though they were going to plow straight into it. Fearful, Terence withdrew from the hunt. At the last second, Harry leveled his broom. It was too close to the ground for him to stay mounted. Instead, he stepped onto the wood, balancing as well as he could. He took a few steps forward, hand outstretched toward the Snitch. He took another step, onto the handle, but tumbled forward. He rolled into the ground, and once he stopped; he stood up.

The crowd was on the edge of their seats, watching Harry with intense eyes. The boy placed his hands on his stomach and wretched. Aralynn bit her lip. Hermione exhaled. "He looks like he might be sick," she said.

Then, Harry spit something from his mouth. He held it in his hand and raised it, bestowing it to the crowd. It was the Golden Snitch. The crowd began to cheer. Lee clapped. "Harry Potter has caught the Snitch! That's one-hundred-and-fifty points for the team! Gryffindor WINS!"

The crowd began chanting again, but now it was the whole crowd. "Go, go Gryffindor! Go, go Gryffindor! Go, go, Gryffindor!"

Standing in the middle of the arena, Harry was absolutely twinkling.


	12. Reflection of Lies

Winning the first match of the Quidditch season earned Harry the title of 'Hogwarts's Golden Boy.' While he seemed uncomfortable with the attention, which, albeit, he was already earning because of his legacy; he still seemed to be basking in the glory. If Harry believed that people were trying to get close to him before, because of his defeating The Dark Lord; it definitely seemed as though people were flocking to him even more now. Mostly everyone at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry wanted to be Harry Potter's friend. Whether it was because they thought him a worthy friend, or simply because they wanted to be close to the hero of Hogwarts—was unclear. Ron had taken a liking to turning his nose up at those seeking Harry's attention, as he was the first to earn the honor of being Harry Potter's best friend.

It was almost impossible for Harry, Ron, Aralynn, and Hermione to travel through the corridors without some sort of greeting being thrown at them. Or rather—at Harry.

"Hi, Harry!" said an eager Ravenclaw girl who none of them recognize.

"Wicked match, Harry," said Seamus Finnegan.

"Harry—want to study together in the Great Hall later?" asked a Hufflepuff boy, Ernie Macmillan.

Even elder Hogwarts students fought for Harry's attention. Though, they all figured it was perpetuated by the pro-Harry propaganda that Fred and George were promoting. The acclaim Harry was receiving was quite obviously irritating two people in particular: Draco Malfoy, and Severus Snape. Draco and Professor Snape were the first two people to show true disdain—even hatred—for Harry from the very beginning of the school term. They were outraged by the fact that the Potter boy had people fawning over his every step.

It seemed because of such recognition that Harry's marks in their Potions class were nothing but bleak. Perhaps Harry wasn't the most skilled students when it came to Potions, but his three friends noticed that he was performing, at least, decently. Professor Snape was plainly singling the boy out due to his newfound, second bout of fame.

One afternoon, after their recent Potions class, the four were roaming around the grounds. Harry seemed dismayed and his friends were doing everything they could to cheer him up. Professor Snape's prejudice was finally starting to affect him.

"Don't worry, Harry," cooed Hermione. "I'm sure Snape will find someone else to torment soon."

"Not soon enough," sighed Harry. "I'm going to fail Potions at this rate. Why does he hate me so much?"

None of them answered his question. "Well, maybe he'll go in on Neville next. Aside from you and Hermione; Neville seems to be his favorite target," Ron offered.

"I dunno," Harry grumbled. "He _hates_ me."

They were then unexpectedly met by Rubeus Hagrid. "'Oo hates you, Harry?"

"Snape," Harry answered.

"Poppycock!" shouted Hagrid. "Snape don' hate you."

"He _does_, though, Hagrid. I wish you could see how he treats me."

Hagrid shook his head ferociously. "Snape is a Hogwarts professor. He don' hate nobody. A professor can' be biased!"

"Snape is a bit a cruel," Aralynn intervened. "Particularly to Harry."

Hagrid scoffed. "What else makes ya think tha' Snape hates you?"

Harry thought. "During the Quidditch match, he jinxed my broom."

"Nonsense!" Hagrid roared. "Why would Snape do summat like tha'?"

The black-haired boy shrugged. "Who knows. Why was he trying to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween?"

Hagrid startled, staring at the boy. "Three-headed dog? 'Oo told you 'bou Fluffy?"

Aralynn raised her eyebrows. "_Fluffy_? That _beast_ has a name?"

The half-giant looked offended by Aralynn referring to Fluffy as a 'beast.' "Well, o'course he's got a name! He's a good boy! He's mine!"

"_Where_ on earth did you find a three-headed dog, Hagrid?" asked Hermione.

"I won 'im down at a pub last year. An Irish feller was giving 'im away. Raised 'im as me own," Hagrid explained. "Then I lent 'im to Dumbledore to guard the—"

"—Yes?" the four asked simultaneously.

Hagrid went silent and pressed his lips into a thin line. "Nevr'min! Not my business ter tell. Anyway, you four should stop yer thinkin' that Snape is doin' som'thin he shouldn't be!"

Harry huffed. "Hagrid, you must listen! Snape is after whatever Fluffy is guarding! I saw him the night the troll was at Hogwarts—his leg was bleeding, and the next day he was _limping_."

Hagrid sniffed dismissively. "Maybe 'ee tripped."

"_Tripped_?" Hermione laughed. She moved in front of them, standing her ground to the man. "Hagrid, I _know_ a curse when I see one. When Harry's broom was acting all wonky, I saw Professor Snape in the stands, muttering something. You need to keep eye contact when you're performing a curse, and Snape wasn't _blinking_!"

Hagrid sighed loudly. "Listen ter me, you four. Yer meddlin' in things that ought _not_ to be meddled in, ya hear? Now, what Fluffy is guardin' is none of yer business! It's strictly between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel!"

The children looked between each other, now knowing that they had a lead to follow. Hagrid, too, seemed to notice and went pale. "Forget I said that!" he shouted. "I should'n have!" The large man then quickly whisked himself away, quietly berating himself for not keeping his mouth shut when he should have.

Harry seemed confused. "Who is Nicolas Flamel?" he asked, looking over. "Hermione, d'you know?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't, but there's always the library!"

* * *

The four spent the next month searching every inch of the library. Unfortunately, each search was unsuccessful. They hadn't managed to find a single bit of information on anybody named Nicolas Flamel. By the time Christmas break came around, they were feeling downtrodden. How were they ever going to figure out what Fluffy was guarding when they couldn't even find proof of Nicolas Flamel's existence? They likely wouldn't be able to search again until Christmas came and went.

It was the week before Christmas that their holiday break occurred. Most of the students were packing in preparation to return home. Hermione had spent much of that time talking about how much she missed her parents, and how she was glad to be able to see them again. When McGonagall had come around to collect the names of the students who would be returning home for holiday, Hermione had eagerly jumped to make sure that her name was on the list. Ron and Aralynn's names were not put on the list. They were meant to be, but instead, their parents decided to visit their elder brother, Charlie, in Romania. Harry also neglected to put his name on the list. Aralynn suspected that he wanted to avoid his family at all costs.

Just before those going home were to board the train, Hermione went looking for her friends. They were in the Great Hall. Aralynn was sitting by, watching Harry and Ron play Wizard's Chess. Ron, who was quite good at the game, was absolutely dominating Harry. Luckily, it was more of a teaching moment than any actual competition. Harry had been curious about the game, and so Ron decided to show him how to play it.

Hermione wandered over to them, lugging a large trunk along with her. "Why haven't you two packed?" she asked Ron and Aralynn.

Aralynn looked up. "Mum and Dad decided to visit Charlie in Romania. Regardless, I was going to stay so that Harry wouldn't be alone during his first Christmas at Hogwarts."

Ron nodded. "I would have stayed, too. Queen to E-5."

Hermione watched the chessboard as the piece moved to Harry's knight. The queen then stood from her chair and whacked the knight, breaking the piece in half. She gasped. "That's totally barbaric!"

Ron shrugged. "_That's_ Wizard's Chess. Shouldn't you be leaving for the platform?"

Hermione huffed at him. "I will be in a moment. I stopped to say goodbye… and since you'll both be here for Christmas; you can help Harry search for Nicolas Flamel in the library."

Ron gaped. "We've already looked! More than _once_!"

Hermione smirked. "You haven't looked in the restricted section."

Aralynn gasped, putting a hand to her chest. "_Hermione_."

The brunette laughed. "I know, I know. At least I won't be here while you three are breaking the rules. Be careful, though. We need to find out who Flamel is at _least_ before you're all expelled. Anyway, Happy Christmas."

They said their goodbyes to Hermione. Ron and Harry returned to their game.

Professor Quirrell and Professor Snape came wandering into the Great Hall. Aralynn redirected her attention to the teachers, watching them speak. Or rather, watching them argue. Whatever they were talking about was surely heated. Aralynn tried her best to read their lips, but it wasn't a skill had ever acquired. She narrowed her eyes, trying to get a clearer view, but Professor Snape noticed her spying. He turned his back to her, pulling Quirrell to face away from her as well. Suddenly, a sharp, burning sensation struck her scar. She hissed and placed her hand to her forehead.

Harry and Ron were drawn to her. "Are you okay, Ara?" asked Ron.

Harry was staring at her hand. "What are you doing?"

Aralynn then remembered that Harry hadn't found out about her identical scar. Panicked, she lied. "I have a headache."

Ron tilted his head. "D'you need to go to the infirmary?"

The girl shook her head. "No, I'm alright."

Harry, however, didn't seem to believe her. He was still staring at the placement of her hand on her forehead. He narrowed his eyes, clearly wondering what could be under her bangs, and why the action was so familiar to him. He was distracted when Ron overtook another one of his chess pieces.

Aralynn quickly withdrew her hand from her head. She wanted to get out of the Great Hall and try to get Harry to forget about her head. She tapped her foot, trying to think of what could possibly work. She perked up. "Hey, let's visit Hagrid."

Ron grumbled. "We're playing a game right now, Ara."

She glared. "You can play it again later, Ronald."

"Let's finish first," he said, studying the placement of the pieces carefully.

Aralynn narrowed her eyes. She glared at him and stood up, swiping the red and white pieces off of the board. "Oh, look at that. Game over. What a shame."

"Hey!" Ron growled. "What'd you do that for!?"

His sister smiled at him. "Hagrid's, anyone?"

* * *

Ron packed up his chess set. The boys followed Aralynn out of the castle. The world outside was blindly bright. The ground was blanketed with a thick layer of snow, and the sun's light on the overwhelming whiteness caused their eyes to burn. They trudged downhill through the snow, heading to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the grounds. Smoke was rolling from his chimney and his dog, Fang, was sitting in the window. He began to bark when he noticed the children.

Aralynn approached Hagrid's door and knocked on it several times. He was trying to get Fang to quiet down when he opened the door. The corners of his beard perked up when he saw their faces. "Well, isn't this a surprise!"

They sauntered into Hagrid's house, discarded their winter protection, and settled in various seats around the small one-room building. Hagrid went over to the fire, tending to the kettle of tea he had brewing. "What are you three doin' here?" he asked. "Bored already, are ya?"

"Ask Aralynn," Ron said, still bitter. "It was her idea."

Hagrid's eyes welled with tears. He patted them away with his shirt. "Oh, really? You wanted ter see _me_, Miss Aralynn?"

The girl grinned at the man. His emotions appeared to be getting the better of him, though she didn't know why. "Of course, Hagrid. I love visiting you. Why are you crying?"

Hagrid waved his hands erratically. "Oh, I just—it's been—I'm not used ter people wantin' ter visit me, tha's all."

Aralynn watched Hagrid thoughtfully, figuring that that wasn't actually what he wanted to say. Every time he saw her, he always seemed to start crying. Why did he feel so emotional around her? It was true that she hadn't recently been thinking about all the strange things that had begun happening around her when she started school. The last she could remember thinking about was the connection she and Harry made when they were fighting off the troll. Frankly, she had been quite glad that so many questions weren't haunting her as of late. Now, however, she was thinking of them again. Why was a connection made between Harry and her? Why did Hagrid always cry when she was around? Why did she feel like part of her was fading when Harry was nearly thrown from his broom? Why did she feel like she was missing something? Why did she feel like she was _incomplete_?

* * *

The days following up to Christmas Eve were spent mostly in the library. The remaining faculty and students seemed to think that the three were barking mad to be spending their days, and evenings, (what they believed) studying. Aralynn had been so distracted by discovering who Nicolas Flamel was that she hadn't taken a moment to slow down and absorb her surroundings. One afternoon, while eating lunch in the Great Hall, she decided something—nothing was quite as beautiful as Hogwarts during Christmas.

Twelve massive snow-covered fir trees lined the perimeter of the hall, which were decorated with bulging colored bulbs, pulsing lights, and large stars sitting atop the trees' peaks. Above head were several strings of twinkling golden lights; crisscrossed multicolored streamers of garland, tinsel, holly, and mistletoe. The windows clouded over with frost, and the ceiling had been enchanted to sprinkle down flakes of snow—though warm and dry. Wreaths and jingling bells sat on the walls between the windows. The long tables held centerpieces of cookies, candies, and small reindeer figurines. It was absolutely breathtaking.

Aralynn picked at her food, listening to the sound of Harry and Ron conversing, but not actually honing in. She was happily munching on a pumpkin pasty. It was only when Ron elbowed her, did she look over. "What's that?"

"I was telling Ron that we should look for any writings on Nicolas Flamel after Christmas. Perhaps even Christmas night. What d'you think?"

Aralynn glanced between the boys. "Sure," she said. "We can do that, but how are we going to get around the castle unnoticed?"

Harry shook his head. "We'll figure something out."

"We could look into some spells to turn us invisible or something," Ron suggested.

The opposite boy furrowed his eyebrows. "Does such a spell exist?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno."

"Hermione would be the one to ask," Aralynn said to them.

"Or you," Harry pointed out.

Aralynn cocked an eyebrow. "Why me?"

"You're just as smart as Hermione is, Ara. You two are elbow-to-elbow for the top of our class."

"We are?"

Ron blinked at her. "Didn't you know that?"

Aralynn hesitated. "Ah… no, I didn't. I guess I've been a bit distracted lately."

"Why is that?" asked Harry. He seemed genuinely concerned.

Where could she begin? Could she start by telling them that people had been acting very odd around her? Could she start by telling them that she felt unnaturally drawn to Harry? Could she tell them that she felt like something about her was false? Truthfully, what could she _really_ say? If she were honest, they would think that she was a complete nutter.

She wanted to tell them: "_I feel like my life is a lie_!"

Instead, she thought of the best excuse she could. "Exams," she lied. "I've been worried about exams."

Harry took it on word, but Ron didn't look so convinced. Before he could say anything, Aralynn had abruptly stood. "Best get back to the library. We need to continue scouring through as many books as we can before nightfall."

The boys followed Aralynn back to the library. They split apart, all looking through different sections of the room since there was so much ground to cover. Aralynn was shuffling through books on a shelf when she came across a small, tattered book. She picked it up, studying the cover, which read: _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. She remembered that her mother would read the stories inside to her and Ron when they were younger. _The Warlock's Hairy Heart_ had been her favorite short from the book.

She took the book to the table, flipping through it. She smiled slightly, hearing the words in her mother's voice when she glanced over them. Sometimes she found herself wishing that she could be five again, fervently listening as Molly Weasley read the youngest pair of twins to sleep. She stopped flipping the pages, stopping on a story that she didn't recognize. _The Tale of the Three Brothers_. She combed through her memories several times, but not a single instance where her mother read this story aloud came to mind. At the top righthand corner of the page was a hand-drawn symbol—a triangle, with a straight line down the middle, and a circle inside of the shape. She traced her finger over the drawing, trying to discern why she felt that she had seen it before. She flicked her eyes back to the words, reading over the story.

She must have read it almost one hundred times.

It felt so familiar, but she didn't know why.

* * *

Christmas Eve into Christmas morning was absolutely sleepless for Aralynn. She spent the entire night, alone in her dormitory, sitting in the sill of the window closest to her bed. She spent the night staring out the window, watching the snow falling lazily from the sky. The cold biting at her feet didn't seem to bother her much. If it did, she did nothing about it. She was too deep in her own thoughts to be pulled out of them. She wanted to find someone who had answers that they could give her. She wanted to march straight up to her mother and ask why she felt like she was an imposter. She wouldn't have even known that it was morning if Harry and Ron hadn't gone stomping excitedly into the Common Room.

Aralynn tore herself away from the window to meet the boys in the central, shared room. She was standing near the steps when they shared holiday greetings. They didn't seem to notice that she was there.

"Have you opened your presents?" asked Harry.

"No," answered Ron, as though it should have been obvious. "I was waiting so that we could open them together."

Harry looked confused. "_I_ got presents?"

"'Course!" exclaimed Ron. "What'd you expect? Turnips?"

"Well, I… I've never really gotten Christmas presents before."

Ron shrugged. "Now you have!"

Harry went to open them but paused. "Where's Ara?"

"Here," Aralynn announced, walking over to the Christmas tree.

"C'mon," Harry ushered. "Let's open them together."

Aralynn took her presents and sat on the couch with them. She didn't bother touching them while Ron and Harry opened theirs. When Ron opened the parcel addressed from their mother, he immediately put the knitted maroon sweater on. In a different colored yarn was the letter 'R.'"

"Mum always knits us a sweater and makes us fudge," Ron told Harry. "Oh, look. Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans from Hermione."

Harry began to open his presents. The first opened was from Hagrid—a rather ugly hand-carved flute. Clearly, Hagrid had done it himself. The next was from his aunt and uncle; a fifty-pence piece. Though, Harry didn't seem to care for it very much, as he gave it to Ron when he expressed his fascination. The next present was from Mrs. Weasley.

"Ron—Ara, look!" he hollered. "It's from your mum!"

"She must like you," Aralynn pointed out.

Harry pulled out the emerald sweater and box of fudge. He pulled the sweater over his head, setting aside the box of Chocolate Frogs that Hermione had gifted him.

Ron almost squealed when he opened his present from Aralynn. "An autographed photo of Galvin Gudgeon!" he shouted. "How—where!?"

Aralynn offered a halfhearted grin. "It's a secret."

"_Secret Strategies for Wizard's Chess Domination_," Harry read aloud, holding a book in his hands. He turned toward Aralynn and gleamed at her. "Thank you!"

She nodded. "You're welcome, Harry."

"You haven't opened any of your presents!" Ron remarked. "Why not?"

Aralynn shrugged, beginning to open them just to appease Ron. She pulled the purple sweater from her mother over her head. She set the box of fudge aside. Hermione had gotten her a book of advanced spells. Hagrid had given her a book about magical plants. The last present was from Ron—a handmade silver necklace with a turquoise pendant. It was quite beautiful. She smiled and latched it around her neck.

Harry was looking embarrassed. "I didn't get you guys anything."

"That's okay!" Ron assured. "Next year."

Harry nodded at Ron. He eyed Aralynn for a long moment, noticing that she looked rather dejected. "Are you okay?"

Aralynn forced her expression into happiness. "Yes," she answered. "You've still got one present left, Harry."

"Oh, I do." He opened the parcel, pulling from the wrapping a silky, billowing cloak of silver. He ran his fingers over it, noting how soft it was.

"_No way_!"

Harry startled. "_What_, Ron?"

"Is that? –It _is_!"

Harry stared wide-eyed at him. "_What_!?"

"That's an invisibility cloak, Harry! They're _incredibly_ rare!"

Aralynn watched as Harry wrapped the cloak around himself. His body subsequently disappeared, and he was left as nothing more than a floating head. "Look in the mirror," she told him.

He moved in front of the mirror, gawking at his lack of body in the reflection. He pulled the cloak over his head and watched his entire being vanish. "Amazing!" he said from under the cloth. "Who would have given me this?"

Aralynn picked up the note that had fallen from it. "Whoever wrote this," she said.

Harry removed the cloak and set it off to the side. He took the note and read aloud: "'Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.'"

"Is it signed?" asked Ron.

He flipped the note back and forth. "No."

"An anonymous gift-giver," said Aralynn. "How mysterious."

"Do you think this _really_ belonged to my father?"

"I don't know why they would have said it did if it didn't," Aralynn told him.

"Fair point."

"Hey!" Ron burst. "Harry, you could use that to get into the restricted section of the library! Nobody would ever know that you were there. Not even Mrs. Norris could rat you out."

"Brilliant, Ron," beamed Harry. "I'll do it tonight."

* * *

After lunch, the three went outside to enjoy the snow. Harry and Ron were having a snowball fight while Aralynn sat on the base of the fountain, feeding dead voles to Amete; who was perched on her knee. Hedwig was sitting on her left shoulder, watching her owner being pelted by enchanted balls of snow. The boys had frequently asked Aralynn if she wanted to join, but she admittedly wasn't feeling particularly festive that afternoon. Amete hopped over to Hedwig, offering her last vole to Harry's owl. Hedwig took the vole and gratefully brushed her beak along Amete's head. Amete then fluttered to Aralynn's opposite shoulder, affectionately nibbling on the girl's hair. Fred, George, and Percy passed by. The twins had enchanted a few snowballs to stalk after Percy, occasionally hitting him in the back of the head; to which he expressed great frustration.

The twin boys observed that their younger sister was looking rather somber. They abandoned their post of torment and blundered over to her. They flopped down on either side of her and began incessantly poking her. They were obviously trying to get a smile out of her.

"What's wrong, Flame Brain?" asked Fred.

"Flames in your brain again?" added George with a snigger.

Aralynn, however, did not smile. It was something they were quite unaccustomed to. "No flames this time."

The boys frowned. At the same time, they asked: "What is it?"

Perhaps she could confide in them. Perhaps she couldn't. "D'you ever feel like there's something about you that… isn't _right_?"

The boys looked confused.

"Lately I've been feeling like there's something _off_ about me. Like there's something about me that's missing, or it's something I'm not understanding. I've been getting these feelings in waves since the term started, but I can't seem to shake it nowadays."

Fred cocked his head. "Can't say I've ever really felt like I was _wrong_."

George itched his scalp. "We've felt different, sure, but I reckon that's because we're goofballs."

"Is it something like that?" asked Fred.

Aralynn sighed. "No."

"Maybe it's just because you're unique," offered George.

Aralynn puffed. "_Unique_? Don't make me laugh."

"Well, we'd want to make you laugh," Fred told her.

George added, "but only if it was from humor."

Fred wrapped an arm around his sister and pulled her close. "In any case, you _are_ unique, Gingerbread Head. You're probably the kindest person that we know. You're always fighting for people to be treated equally."

The other twin nodded. "You refuse to put up with any lousy sod trying to bully you."

"You're wicked sharp," Fred told her. "You're just having a hard time right now."

"Don't forget that you've got a brutal left-hook," laughed George. "C'mon, Ara. Feel better. It's going to get easier."

The boys stood, kissed her atop the head, and shuffled back to harassing Percy. Aralynn watched them go, feeling a little lighter than she had before. She exhaled slowly, smiling softly. Fred and George always knew how to make her feel at least a _little_ better.

Hedwig flew from Aralynn's shoulder and headed back to the owlery. Amete followed suit. Once the owls disappeared from sight, Aralynn stood and went over to the boys. Her nose and cheeks were scarlet. "Let's go inside. It's freezing out here, and supper will be starting soon."

They waddled inside, allowing the warmth from the castle to melt away the layers of frost that had developed after hours spent in the frigid weather. They discarded their outdoor attire and headed into the Great Hall. They sat at the Gryffindor table, and were soon joined by Fred, George, and Percy. Moments later, the feast appeared before them.

Ron was double-fisting legs of roast chicken. Fred and George were flicking cherry tomatoes at each other. Percy was trying his best to avoid the crossfire. Harry was laughing and seemed to be enjoying himself the most. He had earlier explained that this was the best Christmas he had ever experienced. He told them about all of the horrible things his aunt and uncle would do. They, admittedly, felt bad for him. Though, it only further fueled their desire to give him the best Christmas experience possible. Fred and George even took to flicking tomatoes at Harry, as well.

Through mouthfuls of chicken, Ron asked Harry what his plan was for visiting the restricted section of the library. Harry proceeded to tell him that he would simply sneak out after curfew with the invisibility cloak on, bypass the rope closing off the section, and search through the books for any sign of Nicolas Flamel's name. Afterward, Ron felt it was such a simple plan that he felt foolish for asking.

During dinner, Fred and George thought up alternate personas for themselves named 'Gred and Forge.' Percy took to frequently reminding them how annoying they were. They simply took the comments in stride and reacted to them as though they were compliments.

Once their bellies were full and their eyes were heavy, they sauntered back to the Common Room, to their dormitories, and straight into their beds. Aralynn, having been behind the group, stayed back in the Common Room unnoticed. She sat on the couch and waited for Harry to come down when he figured the time was right for his adventure to the library.

* * *

Harry came down at about midnight. He had the cloak draped over his arm and was passing through the Common Room when he jumped nearly five feet in the air. He hadn't expected to see Aralynn there—let alone Aralynn sitting perfectly still and silent on one of the couches. He pressed his palm over his palpitating heart.

"Ara, you scared me half to death!"

Aralynn eyed him. "Sorry about that. Wasn't my intention."

He shook his head. "What are you doing awake? Didn't you go to your dormitory?"

"I didn't," she answered. "I've been down here the whole time."

"_Why_?"

"I was waiting for you. I wanted to make sure that you came and went alright."

Harry shifted. "You don't have to wait up for me."

Aralynn shrugged. "Might as well."

"Well, I'll be back," he told her. "Hopefully before one. If I'm not back by then… I dunno. Assume I've been expelled."

Aralynn raised an eyebrow. "I'll do that."

Harry waved to her, threw the cloak over his body, and left the Common Room.

While waiting for Harry, Aralynn paced around the room; doing the best that she could to distract herself. The questions were back again, probing her brain without rest. She wanted them to go away, but she knew that the only way that would happen was if she finally had answers. She didn't suspect she would be getting those anytime soon. She spent time cycling between pacing the room and sitting on the couch when her legs grew tired. At some point, she must have fallen asleep when she was resting her legs. The same dream she had been having on and off came again. The flash of blinding green light; the woman screaming, but this time, more.

Underneath the screaming, very quietly, she could hear the same woman whispering something. It grew louder, but still a whisper, until she could hear it.

"_You are so loved_."

A slam sounded. Aralynn lurched awake. Harry was taking off the invisibility cloak. The clock read that it was half past two o'clock. The girl sat upright. "Where in the bloody hell have you _been_!?"

Harry was surprised to see that she was still there. "I got caught up."

"Doing _what_?"

Harry bit his lip. "I found this mirror," he explained. "I saw my parents in it."

Aralynn stared at him. "Your parents?"

"They were standing behind me. Well, my whole family was. Family that I never knew, of course. Family that I'll never know. I want to show Ron… and you, of course."

_Perhaps the mirror shows what we need to see_, Aralynn thought.

"I'm gonna go to bed," she told him. "Go on and get Ron, though."

Aralynn followed the staircase to the girls' dormitory. She lingered in the hall, sitting on the top stair, and listened while Harry came down with Ron—listened while there was silence—and listened when the boys came back. Once she heard snoring from their dorm, she snuck up the stairs (which, oddly enough, unlike the girls', weren't enchanted to disallow passage), and tiptoed into Harry and Ron's dormitory. They were both sound asleep. Ron was snoring louder than the mountain troll had grunted.

She moved stealthily to Harry's trunk, opened it, and pulled the invisibility cloak from it. She mouthed a silent apology to the sleeping boy. She exited the room, put the cloak on, and went bolting through the corridors. She followed the path Harry had told Ron where the mirror was located. She closed the door to the empty classroom behind her. She pulled the cloak off of her body and crept up to the mirror.

It was large and quite old. It had massive, clawed feet and golden trim. There was something written along the trim of the mirror that Aralynn couldn't read. She sucked a deep breath into her lungs and held it.

_This is it_, she thought. _The moment of truth_.

Aralynn stepped forward, properly before the mirror. She looked in at her reflection, but for a moment, saw nothing else. She was frowning when she saw shapes appearing in the mirror. Once they had fully formed, Aralynn studied them. They were outlines. Shapes of two people standing behind her, and someone a bit taller than her standing beside her.

They had no faces—no features. They were mere blank shadows standing in the mirror with her. The mirror was not an answer for her. It was but another question.

Aralynn's knees buckled beneath her. She collapsed. The girl leaned forward, pressing her forehead into the cold stone floor. She squeezed her eyes shut and balled her fists. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage. She smacked the floor with her hands several times, beginning to heave. Booming, heavy sobs were escaping her now. She couldn't make them stop.

She stood and looked into the mirror again. The outlines reappeared. Instead, she focused on her reddening face, and the tears that poured onto her cheeks. She smacked the mirror's glass. "WHO ARE YOU?" she screamed so desperately that her throat went raw.

She balled her hair in her hands.

"_Who am I_?"


	13. Villainous Desire

For the next three days, Aralynn didn't sleep one single minute. She spent her nights listening and waiting for Harry to tiptoe out of his dormitory to visit the mirror he had found on Christmas night. When he would return, and Aralynn heard him sleeping, she would silently make her way up to the boys' dormitory to take his invisibility cloak. She would then follow Harry's example to the mirror. The same image would appear each time—silvery ghostlike outlines of two adults standing behind her, and another ghostly outline of someone she assumed was around her age. She would sit in front of the mirrors for hours upon hours, trying desperately to figure out who it was that was in the reflection. Why were there people in the mirror—but even more so; why didn't they have clear identities?

On one particular night, Aralynn found that she was not alone. As she was sitting before the mirror, she heard the voice of someone behind her. The voice said: "The mirror, once more, finds itself a second visitor. I might have known."

Surprised and unsuspecting, Aralynn jumped to her feet and wildly swung around. Standing in a dark corner with his hands folded inside of his cloak's sleeves was Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. She had half expected to be expelled on the spot, but Professor Dumbledore didn't seem to be angry. Instead, he seemed rather sad. He stepped towards her and looked into the mirror. The expression on his face from whatever he saw in the reflection was unreadable.

"I should have expected to see you here again, Aralynn," said Dumbledore. "You, just as Harry, have come each night since the discovery without fail. Shall I tell you what I told him?"

Aralynn's heart was beating out of her chest. "What did you tell him, Professor?"

"I told him that this object before me is the Mirror of Erised. It does not show your future, nor your past. Instead, it shows your greatest desire. I told Harry of the countless people who have spent their lives wasting in front of the glass. I must now remind you that the mirror does not fulfill your dreams—nor will it bring you any sort of satisfaction, or completion. It only shows you what is in your heart. Nothing more."

Aralynn furrowed her eyebrows. Dumbledore stepped away from the mirror, and so she stepped up to it once more. The outlines reappeared, and she found herself frowning. How could people she couldn't see be her greatest desire? She turned her attention to Professor Dumbledore. "I don't understand how this can show me what is in my heart, sir."

Dumbledore cocked his head curiously. "Why is that?"

The girl bit her lip. "I can see people," she told him. "Only, I can't see who they _are_. They're only outlines—translucent like ghosts. There are two that are standing behind me—adults; a man and a woman. Then there is another at my side; a boy who is only a bit taller than me. I… I don't know who they are."

Dumbledore nodded. "You have been feeling lost. You no longer seem to know who you are."

She looked over. "I _have_ been, but… how are these people, who I don't know, supposed to help me figure any of that out?"

The man drew in a breath. "These people are vital to answering the questions you have about yourself, Aralynn. The only difficulty you face now is that you do not know who they are, and I do not suspect that you will know for some time."

"Do _you_ know who they are?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I do."

Aralynn hesitated. "Can you tell me?"

The man shook his head. "I could, but I will not. This is information you will need to learn for yourself. Over the course of time, you will slowly begin to piece together a notable pattern. You are a bright girl, Aralynn. At the end of this puzzle; you will learn the truth."

She turned away from the mirror and sighed. "What else did you tell Harry?"

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "I told him that it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. I also informed him that the Mirror of Erised will be moved tomorrow morning. I asked him not to go looking for it. Now, Aralynn, I will ask you the same. Do _not_ go looking for this mirror, Aralynn. It will bring you, not answers, but further questions."

The girl rubbed her hands together. "Professor… On the night that Harry, Ron, and I protected Hermione from the troll; Harry and I touched, and when that happened… there was this _connection_ between us. Why is that?"

Dumbledore's eyes flickered to her forehead. "Another question that will be answered with time, Aralynn."

"I feel so _drawn_ to him. I can't explain why."

The eldering man sighed softly. "There are many reasons for why this happens. I, unfortunately, can only say that you both share certain similarities."

"Our scars," Aralynn offered. "We have identical scars."

Dumbledore nodded. "I suspect you would have noticed. Has he seen it?"

Aralynn shook her head. "No. At least, not that I know of. I've been trying to hide it."

The man turned towards her and placed a hand upon her shoulder. "I know you have been very confused, Aralynn. I know you are desperate for answers, and I promise that you will soon have them. Or, at the very least, _some_ of them. For now, I must ask that you leave these feelings alone. If you continue to pry, you will envelop yourself in a darkness you may not be able to pull yourself from. For the being time, I ask that you focus on your studies and your friendships. Can you do that for me?"

The girl sucked in a sharp bout of air. She wanted to pester Dumbledore until he finally succumbed to her will and gave her answers. However, she knew that it would be fruitless. The man was right to ask her not to worry about the questions she had. She decided that, if only because of his boundless kindness, she would oblige. With a sharp exhale, she nodded. "I can do that."

Dumbledore smiled brightly at her. "I thank you. I promise that your answers will come. However, letting go will be to your benefit until those answers come."

Aralynn fingered the invisibility cloak in her hands. "I think I'll be off to bed now."

"A wise decision."

The girl shuffled out of the room, draping the cloth back over her head. She returned the cloak to Harry's trunk, walked to her dormitory, and crawled into bed. For the first time in a long time, she slept well and peacefully.

* * *

It was true that Aralynn had started getting more sleep, but she still couldn't force the image from the mirror out of her mind. She had listened to Professor Dumbledore when he told her not to go looking for the mirror, and she listened when he advised her to stop questioning everything about herself; but even still, the silhouettes of people unknown slithered back into every unattended corner of her mind. Since her encounter with the Mirror of Erised, the nightmare with the green light and screaming returned without fail. It returned, and it did not leave. The nightmare was different this time around—only subtly; with maniacal cackling overtaking the sound of desperate screaming. Night after night, Aralynn would startle awake in a cold sweat. On one night in particular, when the cackling was louder than it ever had been, Aralynn awoke with the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

Most students, including Hermione, returned to Hogwarts the day before their next term was to start. She was displeased to learn that they had not successfully located any bit of information regarding Nicolas Flamel. Even still, Harry insisted that he _did_ remember reading the name somewhere. Only, he couldn't remember where. Aside from their failure regarding the unfindable man that Hagrid had mentioned; Hermione was even more furious when she learned about Harry and Aralynn's illicit journeys to the Mirror of Erised with the invisibility cloak Harry had received as a Christmas present. Hermione adamantly commanded that Harry turn the cloak over to a member of the faculty, but he refused. He wouldn't explain why he rebuffed the idea of turning the cloak in, but Aralynn suspected that it was because the cloak had belonged to his father. It was a placeholder for a memory of James Potter that Harry would never have.

Once the term finally started, the group began seeing less and less of Harry. Quidditch practices were reinstated, and according to Harry, Gryffindor Team Captain, Oliver Wood; was training the troupe more strenuously than ever. Since her discussion with Dumbledore; Aralynn found that she was able to focus on her studies much more vigilantly than before. Her marks, while they were always good, rose to the place where she had originally expected them to be. Hermione and Aralynn were now battling for the first-place spot as head of the first-year class. While Aralynn may have taken it as friendly competition; Hermione seemed to interpret it more as a life or death matter.

"No offense, Aralynn, but if I'm not the top of our class this year—I'll be _so_ disappointed in myself. I've been working so hard for this!"

Ron and Harry seemed to have expected Aralynn to get angry. On the contrary, she understood quite well. She expressed that if Hermione were to come out on top, she would be deeply proud of her friend.

One evening, when Hermione and Ron were playing Wizard's Chess, and Aralynn was studying her star chart for Astronomy; Harry came into the Common Room looking quite aghast. Ron and Hermione, who were encompassed in their game, didn't seem to notice.

Aralynn, however, had. "Harry, what's wrong?"

Ron and Hermione's attention were finally bought.

Harry looked sickly. "Wood just told the team that Snape is going to refereeing the next Quidditch match."

"Why would Professor Snape ever want to referee a _Quidditch_ match?" Hermione inquired, appearing contemplative.

"Who knows?" Harry said with a shrug. He looked like he was going to be sick all over the gameboard. "Maybe he's unhappy with how the jinx on my broom went last time? Figured he could finish me off for good?"

Ron was pitying Harry—it was clear by his expression. "Don't play."

Hermione nodded. "Tell them you're ill."

"Break your leg!" Ron suggested, a bit too enthusiastically.

Aralynn looked appalled by their suggestions; namely Hermione's. She had never expected that Hermione Granger herself would recommend running away from a proposed obstacle. "Don't listen to them, Harry," she said, a little warningly. "You can't run away from this. You'll have to face it head-on."

Harry nearly wretched. "I wouldn't be able to back out, anyway. There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I were to withdraw, the win would automatically go to the opposite team."

"Even if you _could_ withdraw; that doesn't mean you _should_. Don't listen to these numpties. You'll be fine, Harry, I promise. There will be too much faculty around for Snape to do anything harmful to you."

"There were staff around when he jinxed my broom," countered Harry.

"I'll keep an eye on him the whole match. If he tries anything, I'll send Hermione to set him on fire again."

Aralynn's comment made Harry laughed, even if it _was_ a disconcerted laugh. Either way, it was her goal to bring even the most minute about of joy back to him.

Unexpectedly, Neville Longbottom then fumbled into the Common Room. Those in the room were drawn to look over. Neville's legs appeared to be fused together by, what Aralynn presumed, was the Leg-Locker Curse. Those in the Common Room were wondering how Neville had managed to get into the room at all—and many suspected that he had to have hobbled over. Most of the students were laughing at Neville, but she _wasn't_. She sprung herself from the couch and rushed to him. She pointed her willow wand at his legs and performed the counter-curse. When he was able to stand, Aralynn placed a hand on his shoulder. "What happened?"

Neville was looking unwell. "It was Malfoy," he explained. "I ran into him outside of the library. He said I was the perfect candidate…"

Hermione joined Aralynn, also placing a hand on the boy's shoulder for comfort. "A perfect candidate for _what_, Neville?"

"—Someone to test the new spell he learned on!" Neville shrieked.

"That's barbaric!" Hermione shrilled. "You need to report him, Neville."

Neville Longbottom shook his head. His chubby face was growing paler by the minute. Aralynn wondered if he was going to faint. "I can't do that," he said. "I don't want any more trouble!"

Ron huffed loudly. "Someone needs to stand up to him! Why not you? We all know that Malfoy is used to practically mowing people down. Why flop over and make it easier for him?"

Neville grimaced. Now his face was growing red. "I'm a coward!" he burst. "I'm a bloody coward—a bloody coward in _Gryffindor_, no less! You don't have to remind me! It's already been done _for_ you!"

Harry walked over to Neville. He offered the boy the last Chocolate Frog from the pack Hermione had gifted him for Christmas. "It'll make you feel better," he assured.

Though Neville took the candy, he was still shaking his head. He was looking down in shame. "Nothing will make me feel better. I'm useless. I'm _nothing_."

Harry squatted to Neville's level, as he had taken to sitting on the floor instead of standing back up when his legs were freed of the curse. Harry offered him a smile. "That's rubbish, Neville. You're worth twelve of Malfoy, and we all know it. You were sorted into Gryffindor for a reason. The Sorting Hat doesn't make mistakes. You still have time to find your courage."

A weak smile flickered over Neville's lips. "Thanks, Harry." He unwrapped the frog and bit off its leg. He seemed to be regaining his color. "Here," he said, offering the card to the boy across from him. "You can keep the card. As thanks. Besides, I know you collect them."

Harry took the card. "Thank you, Neville."

Neville Longbottom stood up, still munching on the chocolate. He smiled at Hermione and Aralynn. "Thanks for coming to my aid, guys. I really appreciate it. Anyway, I think I'm gonna go to bed."

Aralynn wished Neville a good night. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Harry gasped so loudly that he nearly screamed. "_What_!?"

"This is it!" Harry declared, now loud enough to be considered screaming. "I've found him! I _knew_ I had read about Nicolas Flamel _somewhere_. It was here—on this card! It's Dumbledore! When I was on the train to Hogwarts, Ron gave me a Chocolate Frog. It was one of Dumbledore's cards, and here, listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark Wizard, Grindelwald, in 1945; for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood; and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel!'"

Aralynn felt completely boggled. "All this time looking through dusty old books in the library when the answer was in plain sight all along!"

Ron shook his head. "Hermione was right. We _are_ oblivious."

Suddenly, Hermione jumped to her feet. She looked more excited than she had since the beginning of the year. "Stay there!" she ordered. "I'll be right back! I think I've figured something out!"

The three stood there, confusedly looking between each other.

Then, Aralynn shrugged. "I guess Hermione knows best."

Hermione came trampling back down the stairs, holding in her arms a massive book that must have been heavier than a goblet of gold. She threw the book down on the coffee table and pulled it open. She began to fling wildly through the pages.

Ron stared at her. "_What_ are you doing?"

"I'm looking through this book," Hermione answered.

Ron looked annoyed. "Obviously, but what are you _looking_ for?"

"I saw something in here that's vital to Nicolas Flamel. I can't remember what it was, but I'm going to find it. I checked this out of the library _weeks_ ago. It was for a bit of light reading."

The three of them looked between each other. "You consider this _light_ reading?" asked Aralynn.

Hermione waved her hand, signaling for them to be quiet while she searched. Then she smacked the pages triumphantly. "Here it is! I never thought to look in here, but I should have! Listen to this: Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!"

They looked confused. "What's the Philosopher's Stone?"

"You all need to read more. I expected better from you, Aralynn." Hermione pulled the book into her lap, glancing over the words. "Okay. The Philosopher's Stone was forged by the ancient study of alchemy. It is a legendary stone with staggering abilities. It can transform any metal into pure gold, and produces the Elixir of Life—which will grant the drinker immortality. There have been reports of the Philosopher's Stone throughout the years, but the only current one in existence is owned by renowned alchemist, Nicolas Flamel. The alchemist and his wife, Perenelle, live quite a comfortable life in Devon. Flamel celebrated his six-hundred-and-sixty-fifth birthday last year."

Aralynn perked up. "You're brilliant, Hermione! The dog must be guarding the Philosopher's Stone. Flamel must have asked Dumbledore if he could protect the stone. He likely knew that someone was after it, and that's why he wanted it transferred out of the vault at Gringotts."

Harry was scratching his head. "It makes sense. If the Stone can make metal into gold and gift immortality, then no wonder why Snape would want it. Most people _would_ want it."

"We can't let him have it," said Ron. "I bet the only reason he wants it is for to do bad things… _evil_ things."

Aralynn, notably, had neglected to offer her input regarding Snape. Unlike her friends, she seemed to be the only one who didn't think that their Potions professor was attempting to commit dastardly deeds. He was callous and cruel, that was true, but evil? She could never sense a bit of evil in his body. If anything, he seemed… misunderstood. Perhaps there was more to his overall demeanor that they never realized. Of course, that didn't excuse his cruel injustices against his students, but if she knew anything, she knew that people had _reasons_ for their actions, justifiable or not.

* * *

As the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff that Snape was to referee drew closer, Harry became considerably more anxious. He tried to mask it by discussing with Ron what he would do if he were in possession of the Philosopher's Stone, but Aralynn could sense his uneasiness. Ron and Hermione routinely tried to find ways to get Harry out of playing the game. Aralynn said nothing. She didn't think it would be a good idea for him to forfeit. If he were to simply run away, he would be letting Snape, and all the Slytherin students, win. One afternoon, while they were studying together in the Common Room, Harry told them that he was _definitely_ going to play.

"I don't know what Snape is planning by refereeing, but if I just _quit_, then I'll be letting everyone who doubts me to win," he told them.

Aralynn was smiling behind her _Magical Theory_ textbook. She was glad that Harry was finally in the same mindset that she was. Even if it was something simple, she felt proud of him.

"What if Snape tries to kill you?" Ron asked.

Hermione scoffed. "With the faculty around? C'mon, Ron."

Ron glared at her. "Why would that stop him? Snape is clearly up to no good, and he probably senses that Harry is working against him!"

"We're _all_ working against him," Hermione pointed out. "Why would he kill Harry and not us?"

The Weasley boy paled. "Well, we don't want to give him any ideas!"

"I don't care what Snape is planning," Harry admitted. "If he's trying to hurt me, nothing will stop him. Especially not Gryffindor winning a Quidditch match that Snape is refereeing. If we win, I'll be able to stick it to them all—Snape _and_ Slytherin. I don't want anyone to think I'm too scared to face Snape, because I'm _not_."

Ron shook his head. "You're _mad_."

"No," Aralynn interjected. They snapped their attention to her, seeming as though they had forgotten she was there. "Not mad. Just brave."

Harry smiled gratefully at Aralynn. "I'm not going to let Snape win. I'm not going to let him think that I'm afraid of him."

* * *

When the day for the Quidditch match finally came, Aralynn noted that everything seemed unusually gloomy. Harry was practically bouncing out of his skin with nerves. They were standing outside of the locker rooms, trying to give him a few words of encouragement. He was telling them about how he felt Snape was following him, as he had been running into the man practically everywhere. Hermione told him it was probably just the anxiety singling Snape out in his mind. She told him that it was likely they came across each other quite often, but that he had only just now been noticing. This seemed to make Harry feel somewhat better.

Aralynn studied people as she saw them. They all seemed on edge and ready to reject their breakfasts at any given moment. The only people who didn't seem overcome with skittishness were the Slytherin students. They felt quite comfortable knowing that their Head of House was refereeing the match. They undoubtedly knew that Snape would be unfairly biased against Gryffindor. It seemed a guarantee that Hufflepuff would win. Aralynn wondered what vile Draco Malfoy would spew from his fat mouth if it turned out as such.

Harry was bouncing. Apparently, he was trying to shake the worry from his body. Aralynn wondered if it was working.

"Just relax, Harry," Hermione cooed. "We'll be there to make sure that Snape doesn't do anything to harm you. If he does, just know that Ron, Aralynn, and I have been practicing the Leg-Locker Curse."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "The one Malfoy performed on Neville?"

Ron nodded. "Malfoy gave us the idea, actually. We'll be on standby in case he tries anything."

Aralynn placed her hand on Harry's shoulder when he finally stopped bouncing. The same spark of connection she felt on Halloween came again. She tried her best to ignore it. "You're going to be okay, Harry. We'll be keeping our eyes on you. We won't let anything happen to you."

Harry was smiling, but it quickly melted away. Snape had wandered over to them. His expression was curled with maliciousness. "Good luck today, Potter. You'll need it."

Snape slithered away, and Harry appeared quite ill.

Professor McGonagall came sweeping through. "Weasleys; Granger," she said. "It's time to find your seats so that Harry and the Gryffindor team can prepare. Shoo!"

They offered Harry one last encouraging smile before shuffling away. They found seats in the stand next to Neville, where they had a clear view of Snape. They were tucking their wands away. Neville had noticed and was looking confused. Aralynn offered him a smile.

"Why do you look so grim?" he whispered to her. "And why did you bring your wands?"

Aralynn shook her head. "It's not important, Neville. Enjoy the match."

Neville shrugged and turned his attention to the field when the teams came pouring out.

Hermione was reminding Ron of the incantation for the Leg-Locker Curse, _Locomotor Mortis_. Ron was irately telling her that he knew was the incantation was. Aralynn had her eyes locked firmly on Harry. Even from so far away, she could _feel_ his limbs shaking. Hers were shaking, too.

The game had begun. They kept their eyes on Harry, even when Malfoy came waltzing along, trying his best to antagonize them. He had even taken to flicking Ron in the back of the head. They, however, weren't paying attention—especially not when Snape had awarded Hufflepuff a penalty for an absurd reason.

Harry was circling the field, desperately searching for the Snitch. Malfoy's mouth kept running. "I bet the Gryffindor team doesn't even _have_ tryouts," said Draco. "I'm sure they recruit their members by looking for the most depressing and pitiful people they can find. Harry is an orphan—the Weasleys are poor—and, oh, Longbottom. _You_ should be on the team. You're a bloody idiot!"

Neville was flushed and stammering. "I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy."

Aralynn patted his hand. "Good job, Neville."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were laughing. "Did these tosspots tell you to say that?" he asked, still snickering through his words. "Figures, but think again, Longbottom. If having a brain was gold, then you'd be even poorer than the Weasleys! That's hard to accomplish, ya know."

Aralynn broke her attention from Harry. "Shove off, Malfoy."

The boy whistled. "Oh, _look_. I've gotten _one_ of their attention."

She turned away, looking back out at Harry. Snape was making unfair calls left and right. It was clear that he was doing everything he could to make the game as difficult as possible for the Gryffindor team. Malfoy was still going on about the Weasleys being poor, to which Aralynn ignored. Ron, however, seemed to be cracking.

Harry was diving now, racing with all of his ability towards the ground. Hermione and Aralynn stood on top of their seats. They grabbed each other's hands and held on for dear life. "Go, Harry!" Hermione screamed. Aralynn was whispering encouraging words that only she could hear. They had failed to notice the ball of people rolling around behind them.

When Harry was heading straight for Snape, Aralynn's attention wavered when a foot clobbered her in the back of her head. She turned sharply to find a gross entanglement of Ron, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Neville on the floor of the stands. She jumped off of her seat and began prying them off of each other. "Enough!" she yelled. "This is absolutely ridiculous!"

A fist jerked out of the pile and whacked Aralynn right in the mouth. She was frozen, shocked—but only for a moment. She looked at the hand, figuring it to be Malfoy's. She launched herself directly into the fray. Still, she was trying to force them apart, but only now she was using her fists to do so.

Suddenly, the stands were erupting with hurrahs. Hermione was dancing in her seat. "Ron—Aralynn! We've won! Harry's caught the Snitch!"

Aralynn incapacitated Draco long enough by kneeing him in the stomach. She drew back, lip bleeding and eye bruised, and pulled Ron away from the scuffle with her. They followed Hermione as the Gryffindor students rushed the field. They flocked around Harry, excitedly congratulating him. "Gryffindor is in the lead!" Hermione squealed. "We may yet beat Slytherin!"

The cheer flooded away from the Quidditch Pitch and back into the Gryffindor Common Room. The students were partying while they waited for Harry. Sweets were being passed around, small fireworks were being displayed by Fred and George, and everyone was singing pleasant songs of joy. Hermione was still bouncing, even as she tended to Ron's bloody nose. She had tried to nurse Aralynn as well, but Aralynn had told her that it was nothing more than a split on her lip.

When the sun was setting, they grew concerned. They collectively decided to go looking for Harry. They began to roam the corridors, searching everywhere they could think to look for him. A few halls away from the Common Room, they finally ran into him.

"Harry!" Hermione greeted. "Where have you been?"

"YOU WON!" Ron shouted. "Come back to the Common Room! We're having a party."

Harry was visibly shaken, but nevertheless eyeing Ron and Aralynn's faces. "What happened to you two?"

"Bit of a scuffle," Ron told him. "I gave Malfoy a black eye! Aralynn probably gave him another! Neville was trying to take on Crabbe and Goyle alone. He's in hospital. He's out cold—but Madam Pomfrey said he'll be alright."

Aralynn chuckled. "It's more likely that I gave him an ulcer."

Harry shook his head. "You're both barmy." Nevertheless, he was grinning. Suddenly, he became grim. "Come with me," he told them. He led them into an empty classroom. They were waiting eagerly for him to speak.

"You seem shaken," Aralynn said. "What's wrong?"

"When I was returning my broom to the shed, I saw Snape heading into the Dark Forest. I followed him. On my broom, of course. He met Quirrell in there. They were talking about the Philosopher's Stone, and Snape asked Quirrell if he had figured out how to get past Fluffy. He also asked if he had managed to get past the other things guarding the Stone. Enchantments, probably. He said he needs Quirrell so that he can break through them."

Hermione looked alarmed. "The only way the Stone will be protected is if Quirrell stands up to Snape."

Ron groaned. "We're doomed! It'll be gone by Tuesday! There's no way Quirrell can stand up to Snape."

Aralynn exhaled. "He's managed this far. Maybe he can hold out a little while longer."

"Oh, c'mon, Ara," Ron argued. "Quirrell can't even get a single word out without stuttering. How is he supposed to stand up to Snape?"

Aralynn shot her brother a hot look. "We have to give him the benefit of the doubt."

* * *

They agreed to trust Quirrell for the time being, but Aralynn knew that they were all doubtful. She, however, didn't feel so worried. If Professor Quirrell had managed to stave off Snape's threats thus far, why not a little bit longer? At least until they were able to develop a plan to get to the Stone before Snape could. They went to bed, and Aralynn could see that Hermione was just as anxious as the boys. When she went to sleep, she felt peaceful. For a while, at least.

The nightmare crept back into her dreams. There was the green light; the screaming; the cackling; the gentle female voice letting Aralynn know that she was loved. This time, however, there was more. Through the green light, she could see a cloaked figure—red eyes gleaming at her; an outstretched arm; dirty, unkempt fingernails; and a wand.


	14. The Illict Ridgeback

In the next few weeks, Professor Quirrell proved himself capable of defying Snape. While it was clear that he wasn't doing particularly well, based off of his deteriorating appearance; he was still managing to delay Snape's mission to access the Philosopher's Stone. Aralynn made it a point to continually remind her friends that _she_ was the one who had believed in Quirrell to begin with. They, too, had begun coming around. They each did a small part to make the professor feel as though he were doing a good job. Hermione would secretly jinx those who mocked him, Ron would tell people off for making fun of Quirrell's stutter, Harry would give him encouraging smiles, and Aralynn would go out of her away to converse with the man whenever she could. Their efforts seemed to help him regain a tiny bit of confidence; even if it only seemed to appear during their Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons. He had gotten through an entire lesson teaching about gargoyles and the Smokescreen Spell, _Fumos_, without stumbling over his words one single time. They each felt proud of him, and themselves; if only because they helped him get to that point. Hermione, Ron, and Harry had since taken to apologizing to Aralynn for not trusting her when she said that Quirrell deserved the benefit of the doubt.

Since the Easter holidays had begun approaching, Hermione had thrown herself into a studying overdrive. She constantly berated herself for not preparing better for their year-end exams and would nearly bite Ron's head off every time he reminded her that she had plenty of time to study. Outside of keeping an eye on Quirrell, she would spend hours upon hours drawing up studying schedules, color-coding her notes, and poring over her textbooks. She would bark at Harry and Ron to do the same, but they brushed her off. Aralynn would study with Hermione, but she silently prided herself on not being quite so intense. Though, when Hermione offered—or rather _insisted_—that Aralynn allowed her to color-code her friend's note; she did. When Hermione had finished doing that, Aralynn had noted that it was definitely far more organized.

With the small amount of time Hermione had left in her prescheduled days, she would help the others studying for their exams. She spent several days helping Harry with the Wand-Lighting Charm, _Lumos_. He seemed to be having difficulty keeping the tip of his wand lit. Ron had requested her help with the Severing Charm, _Diffindo_. Their session didn't take long, because she had simply pointed out that he was saying the incantation wrong. He was, obviously, embarrassed when he realized this, but thanked Hermione for her help, regardless.

Watching the boys flock to Hermione made Aralynn feel a little… well, forgotten. It seemed that they never thought to ask her for help. She felt silly for being so jealous, but she also wanted to constantly remind them that she and Hermione were neck-and-neck in their battle for the spot as top student. Yet, they seemed to completely ignore her and her abilities as an equally bright student, and witch. She wanted to kick herself for feeling so petty about it, but she also couldn't make the feeling disappear.

She continued feeling that way until Hermione herself came to Aralynn for her help. When Aralynn asked what the problem was; Hermione broke down and admitted she was having difficulties casting the Mending Charm. When she noticed Aralynn's confusion, she continued on to explain that it took her several times to master repairing eyeglasses and had since been struggling with other objects. Hermione's plea for help was humbling for Aralynn. She no longer felt the green monster of jealousy attached to her back. Once she had helped Hermione with the charm; Hermione had proceeded to ask why Aralynn had been so quiet the past few weeks.

Aralynn sighed and wished that she hadn't asked. "It's foolish."

"Even if it is; it's still something that must have been bothering you. That makes it important," Hermione told her.

"I was jealous," Aralynn admitted. She averted her gaze from Hermione's to stare into the fireplace. She wanted to focus, instead, on the cackling of the burning logs rather than what Hermione's reaction would be.

Hermione, however, was calm. "Jealous of what?"

"You," Aralynn breathed. "I was jealous that the boys kept coming to you for help with their academics. It felt like they forgot about me—and forgot that I was a bit smart, too."

Hermione smiled softly at her. "You're more than 'a bit' smart, Ara. You're brilliant! _Absolutely_ brilliant. I may regard myself as someone intelligent, with a love of learning, but that doesn't mean you aren't the same way."

Aralynn felt even dumber for even bringing it up. "Thanks, 'Mione."

"Want to know a secret?" asked Hermione.

Aralynn looked over. Hermione's brown eyes were shimmering. "What secret?"

Hermione leaned in close. "Sometimes I think you're even smarter than me." After she spoke, she smiled widely, and hopped up—likely to continue on with her scheduled study sessions.

Admittedly, Aralynn felt bewildered. There was no way that she was smarter than Hermione Granger, and honestly, she felt stunned that Hermione would even dare think differently. Once again, she felt harebrained. _Why _was she envious of her friend, rather than thrilled for her and her accomplishments as a student? She wanted to kick herself again.

Ron and Harry had had a bitter reminder than exams were coming when their teachers began assigning them a massive pile of homework each day. Aralynn could distinctly recall Harry commenting on how the Easter holidays weren't _nearly_ as fun as Christmas's were. With their sober recollection of their impending exams, Ron and Harry would spend more and more of their free time in the library with Aralynn and Hermione. Of course, they were much more aggrieved to be there than the girls were. They seemed especially resentful when the weather began improving.

They spent their days, and sometimes well into evenings, sitting in the library and looking over all the notes they had taken. Ron and Harry's notes were significantly shorter and less detailed that Hermione and Aralynn's were—but they each had to admit that Ron's were the most pathetic. There hadn't been more than two lines written for each lesson. When Hermione looked over them, she scoffed.

"You're never going to pass exams with this rubbish," she told him. "You know, Ronald, you ought to care more about your academics. These exams determine whether or not you're going to be admitted into second year. What will you do if you fail?"

Ron was flustered. His freckles were hidden underneath a layer of bright red. "Ara, can I borrow your notes?"

Aralynn shot him a pointed look. "I suppose," she said. "Next time, put some effort in."

"If I pass these exams, I _swear_ I will."

Aralynn narrowed her eyes. "I'll believe it when I see it."

* * *

One afternoon, while Ron had been reviewing Aralynn's notes and copying them into his own words for himself, he suddenly threw his quill down. "I'm _never_ going to remember this!" he shouted. "This is _too_ much! These people are mad! How do they expect any of us to remember everything they've taught and pass these exams!?"

Aralynn, Harry, and Hermione had hung their heads during Ron's outburst, as Madam Pince, the librarian who was noteworthy for being rather unpleasant, had come stomping over. They didn't want to receive the same lash Ron was about to receive. He was standing atop his chair, staring down at them. "Guys?" he questioned. "Are you ignoring me?"

From behind him came a stern, "Ahem."

Ron winced and turned slowly. Madam Pince was standing there with her arms crossed and he had suddenly started feeling like a measly mouse trying to avoid being eaten by a wicked vulture. "Apologies, Madam Pince," he said tamely. "It won't happen again."

Surprisingly, Madam Pince stayed silent. She turned sharply on her heels and wandered away, back to her post at her desk. A Hufflepuff student approached her and they began conversing—pleasantly, at that. Another shock.

Ron slowly sat back down and leaned toward his friends. "You could have warned me!" he hissed.

"And risk being yelled at, too?" Aralynn scoffed. "No way. You're _lucky_ all she did was stare at you."

Ron glared angrily at his sister. "So, you let me receive all of it?"

Aralynn grinned slyly at him. "That's right."

"You're an awful sister," he muttered, to which Aralynn chose to ignore.

Harry's attention was caught. Hagrid was lingering around in the library; which Harry thought was most unusual. At least, since he had never seen the man perusing through the books before. "Hagrid," he called out. "What're you doing here?"

Hagrid ambled over. He was shifting uncomfortably; back and forth without pause. His eyes skirted back and forth. He seemed wary. "Oh, jus' lookin'," he told Harry. He studied the rest of them, noting their noses buried in their books. "An' what're you all up ter?" he asked. Then, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Yer not still lookin' for Flamel, are ye?"

Hermione looked up. "No," she told him. "We found out who he was ages ago."

"We know what that dog is guarding, too," added Ron boastingly. "It's the Philosopher's St—"

Hagrid suddenly leaned forward and shushed them loudly. "Tha's top secret," he told them. "You can't jus' go shoutin' it 'round."

Harry shrugged. "Well, we had a couple of questions, actually."

Hagrid raised an eyebrow.

"About it," Aralynn said. "The Stone. We were wondering what others things, aside from Fluffy, are protecting it?"

Hagrid wheezed. "Quiet, now!" he warned. "Ye can't jus' go blabbin' around bout it—any of it! Students aren't s'pposed ter know about any of this. How bou' you four come by me house later. Now, I'm not sayin' I'm gon ter tell you anythin', though. Nobody can know I told ya anythin'. Like I said, come by later… an' don' say nothing to anyone!"

Silently, Harry nodded. He watched Hagrid carefully shuffle away, being sure to keep his hands concealed from the public eye. He sat back down, looking at Aralynn, who seemed to be watching suspiciously after Hagrid. "What is it?"

"He was hiding something behind his back," Aralynn told him.

Hermione cocked her head. "He _was_ acting a bit strange. Perhaps it had something to do with the Stone?"

Aralynn shook her head. "Maybe."

Ron, who was absolutely tired of doing work, stood up. "I'll go and see what section he was looking through," he said. "Maybe it'll give us a clue."

When he wandered away, the rest of them continued to browse through their studies. They shared a few tips back and forth, and Hermione excitedly discussed their lessons to come. "Many of the most interesting things we learn are saved for the end of the year," she explained. "Soon, in Charms, we'll be learning the Dancing Feet Spell, and the Knockback Jinx."

"I've heard our last learned potion for Snape's class will by the Awakening Potion," Aralynn told her. Hermione seemed to grow even more eager, if that was even possible.

"I can't believe we're nearly finished," Hermione said, somewhat solemnly. "It's been such a spectacular experience. I can say with certainty that I absolutely _adore_ this school. The curriculum is incredible, and the classes? Oh—beyond! Have you enjoyed it, Ara?"

"I have," Aralynn answered. Which, for the record, _was_ true. However, she sometimes found herself wishing she had never been accepted—that she had been born as a squib. Coming to Hogwarts made her feel more out of place than she had ever expected it would. It aroused many questions she felt she would never find answers for, and that bothered her. She didn't want to feel like something about her wasn't right. She didn't want to feel confused and lost. She simply wanted to enjoy her time at school, but she couldn't, and she was beginning to feel like she'd never know why.

Ron came ambling back to the tables with a large pile of books in his arms. He threw them down on the table, moving them so they all lie flat on the table. "Dragons," he said. "Hagrid was looking into dragons! Here are some of the books that seemed to have been recently touched: _Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland_; _From Egg to Inferno: A Dragon Keeper's Guide_. He's _really_ studying this stuff."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "Why would Hagrid want to look _that_ far into dragons?"

Harry looked at the books. "Well," he began, "Hagrid has always wanted a dragon. He told me that the first time we met."

Ron was looking curious, as was Aralynn.

Harry looked between the Weasley twins. "What is it?"

Aralynn took a breath. "He wouldn't be able to have a dragon. It's against our laws."

The black-haired boy furrowed his eyebrows. His scar peeked out from beneath his bangs, and Aralynn's breath hitched. "Why, though?"

"Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709," Ron interjected. "It's kind of hard to keep a massive pet dragon a secret from Muggles, y'know? Besides, you can't _really_ tame a dragon. It's dangerous—_they're_ dangerous. I can't even begin to tell you how many times Charlie has nearly died from his work in Romania."

"Understandable," Harry nodded, "but there aren't dragons in Great Britain?"

Ron nearly laughed out loud. "There certainly are! Common Welsh Greens and Hebridean Blacks! There's a branch of the Ministry to keep their existence quiet. The wizarding world has to put up a _load_ of enchantments to keep Muggles from seeing them. When that doesn't work, their memories have to be wiped."

Harry looked horrified.

Hermione was shaking her head. "So, then, _what_ is Hagrid doing?"

Ron shrugged slowly. "My best guess is that he's trying to learn how to raise a dragon."

* * *

After they felt their time spent in the library had come to a much-needed close, the four hurried out of the castle and over to Hagrid's hut. When they arrived at his doorstep, they each used a hand to knock furiously on the door. Hagrid could be heard inside, shuffling over as quickly as he could. He allowed their entrance. The wandered inside, and immediately began to discard some of their layers. The inside of the hut was blisteringly hot. Hagrid had had a fire blazing in the grate, despite how warm it was outside. They had only been inside for about five minutes, and they were already sweating. Aralynn eyed a pot perched above the fire's flames, watching it rock back and forth as though something inside it was moving.

"So," came Hagrid's voice—breaking the silence. "Yeh wanted ter ask me somethin'?"

Aralynn nudged Harry, who seemed to be hesitating. "Yes," he finally blurted out. "Um, we wanted you to tell us what exactly is guarding the Philosopher's Stone? Aside from Fluffy, that is."

Hagrid frowned. "I can' tell you tha', Harry. I don't know all that's guardin' it meself, and even if I did, you all know I wouldn' be able ter tell you. This is very dangerous stuff, you four. Ye need ter understan' tha'! The Stone is here for _protectin_'. Someone tried ter steal it from Gringotts, which I'm sure you all well know! You shouldn' even know abou' Fluffy, an' I dunno how you _do_… an' I don' _wanna_ know!"

Hermione and Aralynn looked at each other. They knew that they were thinking the same thing. It was time to play into Hagrid's sensitive areas—to butter him up, per se. Hermione smiled warmly at him. "We know you might not want to tell us, but you're the person who knows everything that goes on around here."

Hagrid's beard twitched.

Aralynn nodded. "We really only wondered who, or what, the guardians are. Who would Dumbledore _really_ trust with something so important? Well, who he trusts aside from _you_, anyway."

Hagrid's chest swelled. "Well…" He trailed off, debating whether or not he should divulge any further information. "I s'pose it wouldn' be _so_ bad to ter ye tha' stuff. Dumbledore borrowed Fluffy from me… enchantments were put in place by some teachers… Sprout—Flitwick—McGonagall…" He was counting them off his fingers. "Erm… let's see… Professor Quirrell, tha's righ'… I'm forgettin' someone here. Ah—oh, right, Snape!"

They all seemed to pale, and simultaneously thunderstruck they said, "_Snape_?"

Hagrid stared at them. "Yeh can' still believe tha' Snape would dare ter steal tha' Stone!" he bellowed. "He's protectin' it. If Professor Dumbledore trusts him, then you should, too!"

Aralynn shifted her gaze to Harry's face. Through his expressions, she tried to read into what he was thinking. It wasn't clear, but she could see his anxiousness. She could see that he was worried that Snape had already figured out how to get past each of the teachers' defenses… all except for Professor Quirrell, who was hanging on by a thread. Harry sucked in a deep breath. "You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, right? None of the teachers do?"

"Tha's right," Hagrid nodded, seeming proud. "The only people who know are me an' Professor Dumbledore."

Harry exhaled sharply, quite relieved. He had only just been able to notice how much he was sweating, and how hot he was. The others seemed to start feeling the effects, as well. They were waving their hands before their faces and brushing their dampened hair off of their skin.

"Hagrid," squawked Ron. "Can we open a window or something?"

Hermione nodded. "It's a bit… _stuffy_ in here."

Harry laughed. "We're boiling."

"Sorry abou' tha', but… I can't," the man admitted. He looked warily towards the fire.

Harry followed his gaze. The kettle was wriggling. "What is that?"

Hagrid didn't say anything. Ron had stood and approached it. Inside, there was a large, black egg. "Where did you get this, Hagrid?" he asked. "I must have been _really_ expensive."

The man shrugged. "I won it. I was havin' a few drinks last night an' a stranger an' I got in ter a game o' cards. Thinkin' back on it, he seemed to be quite glad ter get rid of it…"

Hermione was also looking at the egg. She breathed out slowly. "Hagrid, what exactly would you do with it once it's hatched?"

"Don' worry abou' tha'!" he exclaimed. He pulled a book out from under his pillow and tapped it with his palm a few times. "Bin readin' all about dragons. This book here is _Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_. Got it outta the library. I've been followin' all the instructions. Keepin' it in th' fire since their mothers breathe on 'em ter hatch em—when they're finally hatched, feed em a bucket o' brandy mixed wit chicken blood every half-hour; recognizing diff'rent eggs. See, here, this egg is a Norwegian Ridgeback! Quite rare, them."

They all seemed a bit exasperated with the fact that Hagrid was considering raising a dragon—especially when he lived in a _wooden_ house. However, none of it seemed to faze him. In fact, he seemed quite thrilled to have a dragon's egg.

It was just one more thing for them to worry over. They had to make sure that no one was going to find out that Hagrid was harboring an illegal dragon egg in his house. Hermione would often comment on how foolish he was being, and how he should know better.

* * *

One day during breakfast, Hedwig delivered a note to Harry from Hagrid that told them the egg was hatching. On their way to Herbology, Ron had been trying to convince Hermione and Aralynn to skip the class. However, the girls wouldn't hear it. Hermione more than Aralynn.

"We can't skip our classes, Ronald," said Aralynn. "We'll get into trouble."

"We'll miss the assigned homework, too!" Hermione huffed. "It's only piling up at this point. We need as much material as we can get to pass our exams. I won't hear of this!"

Ron stomped his feet. "Hermione, when are we _ever_ going to get to see a _live_ dragon hatching? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! You've already made us these bloody study schedules. We need a bit of excitement!"

"Not with my marks at stake—dragon or not!"

"Shut up!" Harry hissed warningly. A few feet away was Draco Malfoy, who had stopped dead in his tracks to overhear their conversation. They each felt the twang of panic. What if he had heard about the dragon? He would go directly to Dumbledore, and they _knew_ that. They didn't want Hagrid sacked—or worse; _arrested_.

They had stopped talking about the dragon when they noticed Malfoy had been eavesdropping. Nevertheless, Ron and Hermione continued to argue throughout their Herbology class. Hermione had finally caved and agreed that they could go down to Hagrid's during their morning break. When it came along, they hurriedly traveled across the grounds.

When they arrived, Hagrid ushered them inside and told them the dragon was nearly out. The egg was lying atop the table. The shell had deep cracks, and it writhed back and forth. The dragon inside was clearly eager to come into the world. When a piece of the shell popped off, it fell out onto the table. It was rather ugly, honestly, but amazing still. Its spiny wings were massive compared to its tiny black body. It had large orange eyes. Hagrid was mystified by it. He reached out to stroke its head. The dragon snapped at his fingers. He chuckled heartily. "Bless him! He knows his mummy!"

Aralynn tapped the tabletop nervously. "How fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Before Hagrid could answer the question, his face had completely drained of color. He couldn't seem to find any air to speak. He lurched forward and ran to the window, which caused the entire house around them to shake furiously. They nearly fell out of their seats. "Blimey!" he called. "Someone's seen him! A student!"

All four of them ran to the door to see who had witnessed the hatching. The silvery blond hair was absolutely unmistakable—it was Draco Malfoy. Without a doubt in their minds, he had seen the dragon. They felt cornered.

* * *

The following weeks were agony waiting to find out whether or not Malfoy had reported them and Hagrid. He had a suspiciously satisfied smile on his face every time they passed him. They would spend as much time as could in the hut, trying to convince Hagrid, with all of their might, to get rid of the dragon. However, Hagrid would refuse. He kept finding reasons not to and had made the fatal mistake of naming it—Norbert. The most they could do was convince him to consider allowing Ron and Aralynn's brother, Charlie, to take in the dragon back in Romania. He agreed that they could owl him, and Aralynn quickly sent Amete off with the note Ron had written him. Caring for Norbert had undoubtedly started becoming more and more dangerous. The dragon was growing rapidly, and by the time Charlie's reply came in—he was nearly the size of Hagrid's hut, and was eating rats by the crate.

One evening, around midnight, Ron returned from helping Hagrid feed Norbert. His hand was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief, and he seemed quite annoyed. "That _bloody _thing bit me! Hagrid told me off for frightening him! Can you believe that? When I left, he was singing it a lullaby. Norbert is a _nightmare_. Hagrid's lost his marbles."

A tap came from the window. Amete was perched on the ledge, almost dancing while she waited for them to let her in. She seemed proud of herself for delivering the letter to such a far-off place. Aralynn opened the window, took the note, and fed her a congratulatory vole. Amete didn't leave right away. She flew to Aralynn's shoulder and continued to sit there while the four of them put their heads together to read Charlie's response.

Charlie had agreed to take the dragon. He told them that it was best to hand Norbert off to some of his friends who were going to be in the area for a short time. The transfer was still illegal, and so Charlie told them to meet his friends at the tallest tower on Saturday at midnight. Harry had suggested using the invisibility cloak, since it was big enough to fit two people and a crated Norbert underneath. They were so eager to get this nasty business behind them that they all agreed.

The next day, they had prepared to tell Hagrid about Charlie's response. However, they were distracted by the fact that Ron's hand, where Norbert had bitten him, was swelling to unusual proportions and turning green. Despite his protests, they managed to convince him to go to the Hospital Wing. He did everything he could to not tell Madam Pomfrey that he had been bitten by a dragon—who, apparently, had poisonous fangs.

Aralynn stayed behind with Ron when Harry and Hermione went to tell Hagrid about the plan to send Norbert to Romania. Draco had come through, pretending to want to borrow one of Ron's books, and laughed at Ron while he was there. Aralynn had grown so irritated at him that she screamed at him to take the book and leave, or else he would suffer the consequences. Unfortunately, he had taken Charlie's letter along with the book. Aralynn assured Ron that she would tell Harry and Hermione. After that, he quickly left. Madam Pomfrey kept trying to shoo Aralynn, but she adamantly stayed put. She didn't want to leave her brother's side.

"My hand feels like it's going to fall off," Ron whined.

"Madam Pomfrey will have you healed in no time," Aralynn assured him.

Ron sighed and laid back. "It hurts so much."

Aralynn was staring off into space. "Do you ever wish he hadn't come to Hogwarts?"

"No," he said, looking confusedly at her. "I _do_ wonder what it's like to live a simple life, though. We've experienced lots of craziness since we came. Why—do _you_ wish we hadn't come?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. "It feels like things have gotten so much more complicated since we arrived."

Her brother shrugged. "Feels right, though. Feels like this is where we're supposed to be."

Aralynn furrowed her eyebrows. _Does it?_ she thought. _I can't tell. Something about _me_ feels wrong, and maybe so nothing else feels right because of that._

Instead, she just smiled at him. "You're right. It does."

"Stop worrying, then, Ara," he said. He reached out to take her hand with his uninjured one. "This is where you're supposed to be."

Aralynn ran her thumb over his knuckles, thinking about his words. "Sure," she said quietly. She pulled her camera out of her bag and stepped back. "Time to document your first serious injury." She snapped the photo. Madam Pomfrey had noticed the flash, and the camera had been Aralynn's undoing. She forced the girl out of the Hospital Wing on the grounds that Ron needed rest. The girl simply obeyed and returned to the Common Room.

She told Harry and Hermione about the unfortunate circumstances with Draco. Though they felt unconfident, they knew it was far too late to find a different course of action concerning Norbert. There was simply no time to figure anything out. They had to follow through with the Saturday meeting and hope for the best.

When the night came, Harry and Hermione had gone down to Hagrid's hut to pick up the crate Norbert was stored in. He was blubbering quite erratically at the thought of his precious dragon being taken away. They tried to remind him that it was for the best. Aralynn stayed behind to wait in the Common Room with the invisibility cloak. She was careful to make sure that nobody else was awake. When they came back with the crate in hand, she threw the cloak over their heads and managed to squeeze in with them, but barely. It was definitely a tight fit.

They slowly made their way through the halls, trying their best to hold onto the crate. Which, admittedly, proved to be difficult. He wouldn't stay still inside. He was ripping something inside to shreds. They nearly dropped him on countless occasions, but the closest they came was when they saw Professor McGonagall dressed in her nightwear dragging Malfoy along by the earlobe. She was shouting about his insolence and assigned him detention.

He did his best to protest. "Professor, listen! Harry Potter is coming with a _dragon_!"

Of course, the story sounded like completely nonsense. "Don't lie to me! Come along now, faster! We're going to speak with Professor Snape about your behavior!"

Under the cloak, they definitely felt thankful not to be in Draco's position. Though, they felt he was quite deserving of it. They continued to the stairs, and then up them (they were quite steep). Once they got to the top, they took the cloak off and sucked in the fresh air they had been missing underneath the material. They waited for Charlie's friends to arrive.

Hermione was gyrating excitedly. "This is the best day of my life. Malfoy's got detention!"

Aralynn laughed. "Simmer down, Hermione. You seem like you're about to start singing."

"I _could_ sing!" exclaimed Hermione.

Harry stared at her but was smiling. "Please don't."

After a short while four of Charlie's friends arrived on broomsticks. They were quite jolly and showed them the harness they had rigged to transport Norbert. Once everything was set into place, they thanked the children, and flew off into the night's sky. Norbert was finally gone and they felt more relieved than they had ever been. They were feeling quite proud and cheerful as they came back down the staircase. They no longer felt that they had to worry about Malfoy and his big mouth.

However, the excitement was short-lived.

Argus Filch was standing in the middle of the corridor with a lantern held up to his face. His lips were twisted into a malevolent grin. He seemed quite thrilled to be catching them out of bed. It felt as though their knees were about to buckle beneath them.

"Well, well, well," he said through venomous satisfaction. "We _are_ in trouble."


	15. Deep Dark Beasts

It was not the fact that Filch had caught them that made them so anxious. Of course, that didn't help, but the real reason they felt as though they were going to vomit at any given moment was because they were being escorted to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor. When they arrived at the study, they obeyed Filch's demand to sit while he went to retrieve the woman from her chambers. Harry, Hermione, and Aralynn sat in sobering silence, just waiting for the moment McGonagall would bust into the room and deliver their expulsion. Aralynn wondered what she would tell her mother. How could she explain that she had gotten expelled without even completing her first year? If anyone was expected to be expelled, it would have been Fred and George—not Aralynn. She was sure that her mother would kill her. If she didn't, Aralynn would have to spend the rest of her miserable life knowing that she was an utter failure who just _couldn't_ manage to stay out of trouble. Even the mere thought made her hate herself.

Aralynn tried to distract herself while waiting through that antagonizing despair. Instead, she focused her attention on the way McGonagall's study looked. The walls were lined with several, massive poplar bookshelves. The shelves were packed full of dusty old books of various colors. Some of the books were inlaid with gold. Aralynn wondered where Minerva McGonagall could have procured such rare and expensive books. Small, glistening trinkets decorated the shelves, many of which, Aralynn noted; were cats. Her desk, which was positioned near to the center of the room, was wide and made of walnut. The chair, also of walnut, seemed more like a throne. There were framed photographs on the desk, but Aralynn couldn't make out any faces in the darkness. Even while focusing on the room, Aralynn could still feel her stomach twisting into knots. Doom was upon them. There was no escaping it—not this time. The expressions on Harry and Hermione's faces told her that they knew the same.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, and attempt to calm their nerves, Professor McGonagall came tearing into the room. By the elbow, she had Neville Longbottom. He looked panicked. However, he perked up when he noticed them. "Guys!" he called. "I overheard Malfoy—I was trying to warn you! He said he was going to make sure that you were all caught, but he also said that you had a drag—"

The three of them violently shook their heads. Unfortunately, McGonagall had noticed them trying to silence Neville. She blistered. "This behavior—absolutely abhorrent! I would have never thought any of you capable! Mr. Filch has informed me that you were in the Astronomy Tower. Blasphemous! It is _one_ o'clock in the _morning_! Explain yourselves this instant!"

Hermione was utterly silent. She looked petrified.

Harry was tapping his knees, trying to think of an answer.

Aralynn was stumbling over her words.

McGonagall stuck her nose in the air. "I had thought not. Allow me to explain it for you then, hm? The three of you—perhaps _four_ if Mr. Weasley was involved—promoted some nonsense of a story to Mr. Malfoy about a dragon… and for _what_? To get a gullible young man in a _great_ deal of trouble for being out of bed after hours! He's already been reprimanded, but you managed to drag one of your own down with you! Poor Mr. Longbottom overhears the story and believes your lies!"

Neville was standing within McGonagall's grip, now looking extremely hurt. He couldn't believe that the people he thought were his friends would do something like that to him. They wanted to tell him that that wasn't the truth, but there was no way they would be able to get words in without McGonagall having a tiff.

They may have been terrified of what Norbert would one day accomplish, but at this moment, McGonagall looked far more likely to breathe a much hotter fire than any dragon. She was towering over them and seemed to be growing larger by the moment. Aralynn grew nauseous once more.

"I have never more appalled with student behavior before in my life. In fact, I have never experienced having _five_ students out of bed all at once. I am _extremely_ disgusted with _all_ of you. I thought better of you. Miss Granger—your intellect; your _promise_. I am shocked to know you would sacrifice that for a silly prank!"

Hermione crumpled into herself.

"Mr. Potter—so graciously as to be sorted into Gryffindor, only to betray your house and show your utter lack of regard for your classmates!"

Harry wanted to protest, but instead, was silent.

Professor McGonagall then turned on Aralynn. "As for you, Miss Weasley—a combination of both! _Your_ intellect and promise; _your_ disregard for your classmates and house; the _importance_ lying before you." She turned her head sharply and exhaled. "All four of you will receive detention—not including Mr. Malfoy. It is incredibly dangerous to wander around the castle at night, and to mention—FORBIDDEN! I will be taking fifty points from Gryffindor."

Harry and Aralynn gaped. "_Fifty_?"

"_Each_," McGonagall hissed warningly.

Wisely, they silenced themselves.

"Get back your dormitories _immediately_. I would find it wise that none of you make a detour, as all eyes are on you now. Await your punishment—GO!"

They shuffled out of McGonagall's study and quickly returned to their dormitories. They didn't even bother to say goodnight to each other as they trudged up the stairs. Hermione was like a zombie as she crawled into bed, not even bothering to remove her slippers before doing so. She lay frozen, almost like a statue that had been placed there. Aralynn was too wired to sleep. She simply curled up in her bed, thinking of the two hundred points that they had lost Gryffindor in one night. Their house was officially in last place—therefore meaning there was no chance in _hell_ that they would be able to redeem themselves and win the House Cup.

* * *

They had become the black sheep of Hogwarts. Harry seemed to be taking it particularly hard. He was no longer Hogwarts's Golden Boy, but their Cursed Boy, instead. The people who had once flocked to him for attention were now ignoring him. Aralynn, Hermione, and Neville weren't without their penalties. Hermione, who had once been so eager to show her prowess and answer every question a professor proposed, now was keeping her head down and working in silence. Aralynn was sure that some people were quite relieved that she was no longer being a know-it-all; however, it made her sad. She had never seen Hermione so miserable in her life. Ron had done his best to try and reassure them, but to no avail. His best attempt was when he assured Harry that Fred and George had lost plenty of points for Gryffindor but were still well-liked. Harry countered by pointing out that they had never lost two hundred points in a single night. Most people seemed to be blaming Harry solely. They were aware that other first-years were present at the time, but Aralynn was unsure that they knew _which_ first-years they were.

During one of their study sessions in the Common Room, Harry had told them that he vowed to no longer stick his nose into business that didn't belong to him. The rest of them made the same vow. They figured it would be better to keep to themselves. They had done enough damage, and they no longer wanted to do any more. It was their faults alone that their chances of winning the House Cup had gone out the window. They were determined to make the remainder of their year completely disaster-free. They had their exams to worry about, and so they focused all of their time on studying. It was enough to keep themselves distracted, especially from the insults that were being thrown at them. It had gotten out that Aralynn, Hermione, and Neville were also responsible for losing Gryffindor points. They suspected it had been Malfoy's doing.

One afternoon, Ron, Aralynn, and Hermione were going over their notes. Hermione was helping Ron memorize certain Astronomy teachings, and Aralynn was poring over a textbook, trying to memorize the dates of certain wars for History of Magic. Ron was struggling to name the constellations that Hermione was quizzing him on. "Ah…" Ron stumbled. "I know this one, it's um… it's, ah…"

"Cygnus," answered Aralynn.

Hermione dropped the piece of parchment in her hands with some force. "Aralynn, _please_!" she huffed. "Ron _has_ to learn these things. Your intervening isn't going to help him!"

"At least I'll know _that_ one," said Ron. "I was going to say Orion…"

Hermione put her arms down on the table, laid her head on them, and sighed loudly.

Harry came bustling in. He hurried over to the table and threw his books down. Hermione nearly jumped out of her seat. "Blimey, Harry—what is it?"

He told them all about what he had heard when he was walking the corridors. How he had heard Quirrell giving in, and the way he looked when he exited the room. That was that—Quirrell had finally given in to Snape's demands, and the Philosopher's Stone was no longer safe.

Ron was shaking his head. "He held out _so_ long. What are we going to do now?"

"Fluffy is still guarding the Stone," Hermione pointed out.

"There's a chance that he figured out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," Harry said with a frown. "What can we do? What _should_ we do?"

Aralynn recalled the pact they had made. "What else _can_ we do? We have to go to Professor Dumbledore—just as we should have from the beginning. If we try to stop this ourselves, we'll surely be expelled. Remember what we said, Harry? No more meddling."

Harry was exasperated. "How are we supposed to get Dumbledore to believe us, Ara? We have no proof of any of this. We haven't proven to be much more than troublemakers. There's no way Dumbledore will buy any of it. We don't have Quirrell to back us up, and we're not quiet about hating Snape. What if he thinks we're making everything up just to get Snape sacked?"

Aralynn shook her head. "Dumbledore is brighter than that, Harry."

"It doesn't change the fact that we have no evidence," Harry said with a sigh.

Ron was shaking his leg anxiously. "Maybe if we did just a _bit_ of poking around—"

Harry shook his head. "No. Aralynn is right. We can't get involved. We've done enough damage as it is." Without another word, Harry began to study like the rest of them had been. His mind was completely made up.

They received their detention notices that afternoon while at lunch: Eleven o'clock tonight. They were to meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall no later than then.

* * *

When night fell, Aralynn, Hermione, Harry, and Neville gathered together in the Common Room. Harry, Aralynn, and Hermione said their goodbyes to Ron and went through the castle to meet Filch in the entrance hall, as ordered. Draco Malfoy was standing at Filch's side, looking completely infuriated. Aralynn had nearly forgotten that Malfoy had also received detention. It was clear that he believed his wasn't punishment well-deserved. Harry, Aralynn, and Hermione, however, felt that theirs was. Filch was looking far too satisfied with the number of students who were receiving a punishment. He had a lit lantern in his grasp. He ordered for them to follow him, and they did so—in silence.

As they walked the dark grounds, Mr. Filch went on and on about how much he missed the old punishments. He talked of students formerly being hanged by their wrists in chains. He also told them that he still had the chains in his office. Apparently, he kept the well-oiled just in case they would ever be needed again. Pain and suffering—that was the punishment he believed most effective. He definitely made that clear.

Filch led them to Hagrid's hut, where he was standing outside, readying a crossbow beside a lit fire. "Hurry up now," Hagrid called to Filch and the students. "No time to be wastin'. Best we get started now."

The three of them, and perhaps even Neville too, were feeling a little less doom and gloom knowing that Hagrid was going to be leading their detention. Filch, however, made sure they didn't feel _too_ comfortable. "Don't get too excited," he snarled. "You'll be going into the Dark Forest. You'd count yourselves lucky if you came back in one piece."

Malfoy turned on his heel. "The _forest_?" he asked, incredulously. "We _can't_ go in there. It's forbidden and it's _dangerous_! There are werewolves… and _vampires_!"

Filch was scowling at Malfoy. "Well, that sounds like your problem, doesn't it?"

"This is _absurd_!" Malfoy growled. "My father will hear about this!"

Hagrid came striding over. He had a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. "Where ya bin?" he asked. "I was waitin' for half an hour for yehs to come along." He noticed the three, and frowned, but smiled softly. "Alrigh' there, you three?"

Filch rolled his eyes. "They're being punished, Hagrid. Best not to be too kind."

Hagrid glared at him. "Go on an' get outta here. You'll have 'em back at dawn."

"What's _left_ of them," Filch corrected with a nasty smile. He then wandered off.

Hagrid shook his head. "Well, best be off!"

Malfoy was glued firmly to the ground. "I'm _not_ going in there."

Hagrid turned to him. "Well, tha's yer choice, but, if yeh want ter stay in Hogwarts… yeh'll get movin'."

Draco scoffed. "This isn't for students to do! This is _servant_ work! I thought we would be copying lines. If my father knew about this—"

"Then what?" Hagrid asked, growling a little bit. "He'd wouldn' say nothin'. Lucius Malfoy went ter Hogwarts, too. He'd tell yeh this is jus' how it is. What good does copyin' lines do? Hogwash!" He strode over to Malfoy and ushered him forward with a gentle nudge of his back. "Git goin'!"

Malfoy was hesitant, but walked towards the forest, anyway. Hagrid nodded and signaled for the rest of them to follow. He stopped them when they came to the edge of the forest. He pointed to something down the narrow earth pathway leading through the black trees. There was something silver and shining on the ground. "See that?" he asked. "That there's unicorn blood. It's somewhere in there, an' it's bin hurt. I found a dead one not too long ago. Summat's bin attackin' these poor creatures. We're gon' go try an' find the beast."

"The _violent_ one?" asked Malfoy, clearly panicked.

Hagrid grumbled. "No," he said. "The unicorn. Might have ter put tha poor thing out of its suff'rin."

Malfoy relaxed, but barely.

"Nothin' out there will hurt any o' yeh so long as yer with me, or with Fang." He gestured to the large dog at his side. "Here's what we're gon' do: we're gon' split in two. Now, there're two diff'rent trails—poor beast bin staggerin' 'round all night. Gotta split up ter find 'im."

"I want Fang!" Malfoy demanded.

Hagrid stared him. "Fine, but he's a coward," he said. "Harry, Hermione an' Aralynn will come with me. Draco, Fang, an' Neville will go th' opposite way. Stick ter the path. Send up green sparks if yeh find th' unicorn."

Hagrid waved for the three to follow him. They did so, stumbling fearfully.

The forest was pitch black. It was impossible to see a mere few feet in front of them. What could be made out was absolutely terrifying. The trees were tall and thick-trunked. Their leaves waved with the gentle breeze, which could have been soothing, but considering where they were—it was all the more menacing. Aralynn figured she would feel a bit more comfortable if the forest were silent, but there were so many tiny little noises that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. When Hermione tripped over a rock, Aralynn nearly belted out the loudest scream she could muster. Thankfully, she was silent. Hermione had yelped, but quietly. Hagrid made sure that she was okay before they continued on.

There were pools of silver unicorn blood scattered along the ground. The path wound through the forest, bringing up unexpected twists and turns. Aralynn likely would have gotten lost if she didn't have Hagrid to follow. Harry was asking the man several questions, mostly about werewolves, and what could have possibly harmed the unicorn. Hagrid was refuting his theories and telling him why his suggestions couldn't have been what hurt the unicorn and killed the other. Aralynn and Hermione were walking side-by-side. Hermione was looking quite downtrodden.

Aralynn nudged her. "Are you okay, Hermione?"

Hermione offered her an unconvincing smile that could barely be seen through the thick darkness. "I'm fine," she answered. "Don't worry about me."

"I _am_ worried about you," Aralynn told you. "I know you've been really upset since McGonagall ripped us apart."

Hermione sighed sharply. "This school year hasn't gone the way I expected it to. Not at all. I'm thankful for the friendships I've found in you, Harry, and Ron, but… so much has happened—so much has been sacrificed. I'm worried that I'll fail my exams. What will happen if I can't gain entry into year two?"

Aralynn placed a hand upon Hermione's shoulder. "That will _never_ happen, 'Mione. You're the smartest person I know. There's no way you'll fail your exams."

"We've been in so much trouble. I'm not blaming you guys; not at all. It's _my_ fault, too. Our curiosity has cost us so much, and I'm not willing to let it cost me anything else."

Aralynn nodded. "I understand, Hermione. You shouldn't have to."

"I'm sorry," Hermione sighed. "I feel awful."

"You have no reason to," Aralynn reassured. "You value your education, Hermione. You care about your future, and what's going to happen to your reputation. I can't fault you on any of that."

Hermione smiled at her. "Thank you."

"Of course—"

"GET BEHIND THAT TREE!" roared Hagrid. He seized the three of them by their jackets and placed them off of the pathway, behind a towering oak. They huddled closely together, shaking from fear.

"Hagrid," Harry whispered. "Is it a werewolf?"

"No," Hagrid replied. "Summat diff'rent. Summat that ain't supposed ter be here."

They continued to follow him when he beckoned for them. They made sure to stay as close as they could to him, still feeling extremely uneasy. Hagrid was tiptoeing (as well as he could for a man of stature) towards something in the distance. He had his crossbow raised. "Who's there?" he asked. "Show yerself!"

A man appeared under a thin gleam of moonlight. Or, rather, it wasn't a man. Well, it was, but the lower half of his body was that of a chestnut horse. Hagrid lowered his bow. "Oh, hello there, Ronan. Good ter see you."

The redhaired man-horse nodded respectfully. "Good evening, Hagrid." His voice was lulling and full of melancholy. "You were going to shoot me?"

Hagrid looked embarrassed but shrugged. "Can't be too careful. This here's Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, an' Aralynn Weasley. Students up at Hogwarts."

Ronan the Centaur's neck was craned towards the sky. "As students, do you learn much at Hogwarts?"

Hermione hesitated. "Yes."

"Excellent," said the Centaur.

Hagrid stepped forward. "Ronan—have ye seen anythin' unusual out here? A unicorn's bin hurt, summat dangerous is loose out here."

"Mars is bright tonight," said Ronan, who was still looking longingly into the sky.

Hagrid glanced up. "Yeah… Ronan, have you seen anything? Anything odd?"

"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan stated again. "Unusually bright."

Hagrid rubbed his head. Another Centaur, apparently named Bane, appeared. Hagrid tried to ask him, too, if he had seen anything unusual, but Bane gave the same answer that Ronan had: "Mars is bright tonight." The large man grew far too frustrated to continue speaking with them. He explained that there was no point in trying to get an answer out of Centaurs. By the way Hagrid explained it, Aralynn came to understand that they were far too idealistic. Hagrid had simply called them 'ruddy stargazers.'

They continued to move throughout the forest, searching for the culprit behind the unicorn attacks. Harry and Hagrid were discussing what they could have seen and heard before they encountered Ronan and Bane. Hagrid didn't seem to know what it could have been, but he suspected it was the creature behind the attacks.

Aralynn noticed red sparks splitting through the darkness in the distance. Hagrid had advised they be sent up in case anyone was in trouble. Aralynn tugged on his sleeve. "Hagrid, the others are in trouble," she said, pointing to the sparks. Hagrid ordered them to stay put. He went running into the forest.

The three of them stood stagnant, feeling extremely awkward. "What are we supposed to do?" asked Harry.

"Wait to get killed," Hermione answered, swallowing a lump in her throat.

"Hagrid wouldn't let anything happen to us," said Aralynn.

Just in time, Hagrid returned. He had Draco, Neville, and Fang in tow. Aralynn swore that she could see steam coming out of his ears. He was obviously furious. He explained that Draco had frightened Neville, who sent up the sparks. He had already admonished Malfoy for quite possibly jeopardizing their mission for all the noise they had made. To salvage the remainder of their investigation, Hagrid regrouped them. Neville and Hermione were to stay with him. The rest of them were to break apart.

Harry seemed quite unhappy with the arrangement, but Hagrid made sure to apologize profusely for doing that to him. It was only after Hagrid apologized and offered him an explanation that Harry seemed to understand.

Once more, they embarked on their journey. They traveled deeper and deeper into the forest, absolutely sure that they were lost now. Malfoy, of course, was running his mouth. Their patience was beginning to thin. If he didn't shut up soon, Aralynn wasn't sure what she would do.

"My father is going to tear this school apart once he hears about that," said Malfoy. "He'll be absolutely appalled. I bet he'll have Dumbledore sacked for allowing such barbaric punishments. I hope he gets that blundering oaf sacked as well. Completely useless, that one."

Harry was prickling. "Shut up, Malfoy."

Draco sneered. "Have I offended you?" He laughed. "You fancy that fat oaf, or something? I wouldn't be surprised."

Aralynn turned sharply. "Malfoy, I'm warning you—shut your mouth. _Now_."

He turned his chin up to her. "Or what, Weasley? How are you going to do that? You going to shove your hand-me-downs into my mouth?"

Aralynn took a step forward. "Or my fist."

Harry grabbed Aralynn's arm. "He's not worth it, Ara. You're going to get into more trouble. Do you want to risk expulsion for _him_?"

Aralynn puffed. She forced herself to relax, but Malfoy was definitely on thin ice. If he made another gross remark, she wasn't sure that she would be able to control herself.

They continued through the forest. It only seemed to be growing thicker with each step. The could barely make it a few feet without walking into a tree. There was hardly any space between them anymore. Suddenly, Harry held up his arm, which stopped Aralynn and Draco from going any further. "Quiet," he warned. He pointed through the trees, into a clearing.

On the dark, black ground laid a gleaming white shape. As they inched closer, they noticed that it was the unicorn. It had died, but it seemed to have done so only recently. They stopped a good few feet away. Draco and Fang stood transfixed, but Harry and Aralynn did not. Aralynn noted that the sight of the dead unicorn was the saddest thing she had ever seen. The creature was absolutely gorgeous, and it seemed a sin for it to have been murdered. She wanted to cry. In fact, she almost did.

There was a soft rustling through the forest's thicket. They looked over to see a large, hooded figure come into the clearing. It went over to the unicorn, bent before it, and began to feed. When its head lowered, Aralynn felt a searing white-hot pain afflicting her scar. Harry's scar also seemed to be bothered. The two fell backward, screaming out in agony.

Draco and Fang both ran for the hills. Nothing less than Aralynn would have expected. Too bad she couldn't focus on anything other than the burning on her forehead. The two children dropped to their knees, unable to keep themselves standing. The pain was far too fierce. While Harry likely would have questioned her for experiencing the same pain, he definitely wasn't able to focus on anything, either. The hooded figure looked directly at them and came swiftly for them. There was nothing they could do but give up and be killed.

Harry reached out his hand, palm outstretched towards Aralynn. Aralynn reached over to take it. When their hands touched, and their palms were linked, the connection they had experienced on Halloween sparked between them. This time, they didn't fight it. Instead, they fed into it. If they were to die, at least they would die together. They held on for dear life, praying that this wasn't the end. The white, glowing light appeared before them. It seemed to act as some sort of protective shield. The hooded figure couldn't come any closer.

Then, suddenly, hooves sounded. They were near. Aralynn and Harry released their grips, and the white lights faded away. The beast, which appeared to be a Centaur, fought the hooded figure. When the pain in their heads had gone, they looked up. The only thing left standing was the Centaur—not Bane, nor Ronan. Someone different.

He galloped over to the children. "Are you alright?"

"Better now," said Aralynn weakly.

"You two are—" the Centaur paused. "Students," he said suddenly. "I am Firenze. The forest is not safe for you at this time. Get onto my back. I will return you to Hagrid."

Harry and Aralynn climbed onto Firenze's back when he lowered his front legs. Aralynn wrapped her arms around Harry when the Centaur took off. She closed her eyes tightly and laid her head on his back. She was trying to make sense of what had just happened. Not the figure, but the forcefield. Their scars hurting simultaneously.

She could hardly pay attention when Firenze came across Ronan and Bane. The Centaurs were arguing, but her head was pounding, and she couldn't bear to focus. It wasn't until she was pried off of Firenze's back that she realized they had been returned to Hagrid. As they were escorted back to the castle, Harry told her all about what Firenze had revealed—the use of unicorn blood to keep a being alive, the reason the Philosopher's Stone was being hunted—to bring You-Know-Who back into life and power; delivered by the slimy hands of Severus Snape. Harry didn't even seem to acknowledge what had happened between them.

When they returned to the Common Room, Harry had hurried over to wake Ron—who had fallen asleep on the couch—and tell him all about what happened. He tried to use Aralynn to corroborate the story, but she was nowhere to be found. Instead, Aralynn had gone directly upstairs and into her dormitory. She was sitting on her bed, while the other girls were sleeping, with a wastebasket between her knees. Her arms were wrapped around the basket, holding it tightly to her chest.

Aralynn sat there, dripping with sweat, thinking about the forcefield that appeared before them—thinking about the burning on her forehead. She closed her eyes tightly, heaving dryly, before finally vomiting into the bin.

All she could think was: _What the bloody hell_?


	16. Rumination

Exams had finally come to plague Hogwarts. Since the incident in the Dark Forest, Aralynn had been avoiding Harry at all costs. The last thing she wanted was the possibility of being confronted, but she also didn't want to think about the forcefield. She didn't want to think about _any_ of it. In fact, every time she _did_ think about it, she would end up vomiting. It was even more frustrating than the tests were. Aralynn knew that Hermione figured that she was angry with them for some reason—for avoiding Harry meant avoiding Ron and Hermione, as well. She would constantly try to catch Aralynn in the corridors, during meals, and even in their dormitory… but every time Hermione was near, Aralynn would think of Harry, which would cause her to become nauseous all over again, but also make her scar ache more than it already had been. She needed time to temper herself, and she wished that Hermione would realize that without having to be told. Aralynn simply needed time and _space_.

Aralynn had expected her exams to run her through the mill, but when it came down to the tests, she had felt surprisingly confident. She had done nothing but study during the days leading up to the beginning of exams. She had definitely had a monumental amount of time on her hands from avoiding her friends, and so she devoted all of her time to memorizing every important detail she needed to know in order to return to Hogwarts. The material on the exams were all things she felt that she knew well. The dreaded worry of whether or not she would be able to become a second-year Gryffindor dissipated. She felt she was going to pass. Rather, she _knew_ she was going to pass. When McGonagall had them turn a mouse into a snuffbox, Aralynn had earned the highest marks—as the professor had told her that her snuffbox was the most attractive of the lot. She received an unusually pleasant remark from Professor Snape when she brewed her Forgetfulness Potion "adequately," and Professor Flitwick cheered jollily when her pineapple tap-danced cleanly across her desk. Finally, everything seemed to be falling into place. Thankfully, she had also managed to stay out of trouble and Professor McGonagall was no longer burning holes in her skull every time she passed. Instead, she received a simple nod. She would take cordiality over hostility any day.

One evening, while Aralynn was relaxing in the Common Room and trying to unwind after her Herbology final; Hermione came marching up to her. "Aralynn Nicole Weasley!" she shouted. Luckily no one else was around to hear the shrill scream. Aralynn only wished she had also been absent for it. "What on _earth_ is going on with you? You haven't spoken to any of us in weeks! You're not going to run away from me again. I'll use magic against you if I have to. I demand _answers_."

Aralynn rubbed her face with her warm palms. She wanted Hermione to go away. She was feeling queasy again. "Hermione, _please_. I'm just trying to focus on my studies."

"Hogwash," Hermione hissed. "You've been _avoiding_ us, Aralynn. I'm not daft. Ever since you and Harry faced off with You-Know-Who in the Dark Forest, you've been completely absent. You take every possible precaution to make sure you don't run into any of us in the corridors. You don't even sit with us during meals anymore. _What_ is going _on_?"

Aralynn stood quickly. Her churning stomach dared to spew. "I don't want to talk about this, Hermione. Another time, I'm _begging_ you."

"No," said Hermione firmly. She stepped in front of Aralynn to block her path. "We're talking—_now_. Harry thinks you hate him."

"Please don't mention him," Aralynn wheezed, growing clammy. She wanted Hermione to go away. She wondered if she had the strength to cast a spell.

"What?" Hermione was clearly confused. Why would Aralynn have asked her not to mention Harry? Why was she so adamant about being away from them? "Aralynn, _talk to me_. We're worried sick about you! Harry keeps asking why you're so upset with him!"

Hermione just couldn't listen, could she? Aralynn bolted for a waste bin in the corner of the room. She expelled all of the lunch she had eaten. At that moment, she was thankful she had decided to skip dinner. She fell onto her backside, leaning up against the side of one of the maroon couches. She looked pale and rather sickly.

Hermione gasped and ran to her side. "Aralynn, what's _wrong_?"

Aralynn sighed, defeated. "I don't know, Hermione. Something happened in the forest between Harry and me, and now I can't think about it without my stomach going weak. I _don't_ know _why_."

Hermione was pushing her bangs from Aralynn's sweat-beaded forehead. When she got too close to the scar, Aralynn jerked away. "What happened in the forest, Ara?"

Aralynn exhaled shakily. She was trying to refrain from retching again. "When Voldemort was feeding from the unicorn, Harry and I were… in pain. Intense, ferocious pain. We took each other's hand, and this… _forcefield_ appeared. It protected us from him until Firenze came. It's not the first time something weird has happened between us. On Halloween, we touched, and a connection sparked. That same connection came in the forest, but it was stronger. I… I can't explain it. I don't _understand_ it."

Hermione was looking shocked. "You said his name."

The redhead looked up, confused. "What?"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," said Hermione. "You _said_ his name."

Aralynn hesitated. "I guess I'm not afraid."

Hermione knitted her eyebrows into a thoughtful furrow. "Why were you in pain?" When it came to You-Know-Who?"

Aralynn swallowed the dryness in her throat. It was time that at least one person knew her secret. She pushed her red bangs away from her forehead, revealing the lightning bolt-shaped scar. It was identical to the one Harry had.

Hermione gaped. "Aralynn—that's… Harry—but how?"

Aralynn shook her head. "I wish I knew."

Hermione had stood and was now pacing back and forth. Her hands were clasped behind her back. She was muttering to herself. "It can't be random," she said, loud enough for Aralynn to hear. "It just _can't_ be random. There's no way something like that could ever possibly be a coincidence. There's something here—something we can't see. There's a story behind these scars; behind why you and Harry _both_ have them. There's something that we're missing, and we have been this _whole_ time. What could it possibly be?"

Aralynn thought on it, but she came up with nothing. She, too, felt that there was something missing—she had since the beginning of the school year. However, she could never pinpoint it. Every time it felt like she was getting closer, it would only slip through her fingers once more. Oftentimes, Aralynn felt like she was running through a valley of shadow—going nowhere; without purpose. The world around her hadn't developed, because the one she had known, in some way, was _wrong_. It was a feeling she could never shake. She _knew_, deep in her heart—that she wasn't the person she thought herself to be… she wasn't the person everyone told her she was. The perpetual doubt drove her to find answers, but she never _did_ find any. All along, she had been in the dark, but there was no light to brighten it.

The girl pushed herself to her feet and took a seat on the couch she had collapsed against. Hermione was still deliberating to herself.

"Harry got his scar from You-Know-Who," said the bushy-haired girl. "It happened when he tried to kill Harry. Does that mean that someone tried to kill you, too, and it failed?"

"I don't know," Aralynn answered. "My mum always told me that I got the scar when I was a toddler. She said that I fell into a glass table, but…"

Aralynn's sudden silence caused Hermione to falter. She turned to look at her friend, who was sitting with her eyebrows furrowed. It was clear that she had just had an epiphany of sorts. "What is it, Ara?"

"When my family went to Diagon Alley, and I was getting my wand from Ollivanders; I remember thinking that something Mr. Ollivander said to me was… unusual. Well, most of the things he said to me seemed odd, but—when my wand chose me, he told me that it was '_curious_' that it had happened. I asked why, and he explained that it was interesting that the wand I have would choose me when one of its _brothers_ gave me my scar."

Hermione cocked her head. "Brothers?"

"He told me that my wand has the core of a phoenix feather. The same phoenix gave a feather to _two_ other wands."

Hermione was tapping her foot. "If a supposed wand gave you the scar, that would make what your mother told you completely false."

Aralynn reached up to touch her scar. She ran her fingers over its shape, noting how it felt cooler than the rest of her skin. "It would mean that she lied to me."

The brunette had her lower lip clenched between her teeth. She was pondering. "Unless one of your brothers accidentally cursed you when they were young. A child's magic often lashes out until they can learn to control it. It mostly happens when they're toddlers."

"How could they have? Ollivander said it came from a _wand_. Toddlers don't have wands, and if the scar is an aftermath of a failed curse, then how would, say, Fred or George, _know_ a _curse_? One that could have _killed_ me, given it didn't backfire?"

Hermione nodded. "You're right. That doesn't make sense."

Before Aralynn could say anything more, students came piling into the Common Room. Dinner must have ended. Ron and Harry came wandering through the portrait hole. When they caught sight of Hermione and Aralynn talking, they brightened. Ron came rushing forward. "Is she talking to us again?"

Hermione stammered over her words, eyeing Aralynn.

Harry approached, watching Aralynn with sad eyes. "_Are_ you talking to us again?"

The girl felt she could lose her composure at any moment by the way Harry was looking at her. Ron's excitement, too, was making her inhibitions buckle. She exhaled slowly, trying her best to relax. "Yes," she said with a forced calmness. "I'm talking to you guys again."

Ron cheered. Harry lurched forward to hug Aralynn. When he did, the image of a slender and horror-stricken redheaded woman flashed before her eyes. She pulled herself back from his touch, as subtly as she possibly could. Thankfully, Harry didn't seem to notice.

Ron took a seat next to his sister on the couch. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "What was going on, Ara? Why were you ignoring us?"

Hermione noticed that Aralynn was struggling to find the words. "She wasn't _ignoring_ us," she offered. "She simply got caught up in her studies. We were talking about it before you two came in. It wasn't intentional."

Aralynn nodded weakly. "That's right."

Harry sat next to Ron, looking past him—at Aralynn. "Well, whatever it was, I'm glad you're back now."

The girl mustered a feeble smile. "Me, too."

The boys spent the rest of the night catching Aralynn up on everything she missed. In truth, there wasn't _much_ that she had missed. There were some discussions about Snape and the Stone, but mostly, she hadn't been around to hear the complaining Ron and Harry had been doing about their exams. Apparently, Harry had also been expressing how much his scar had been hurting since they met Voldemort in the Dark Forest. Hermione had neglected to join the conversation. She spent the time sitting in a plush armchair by the fire, appearing quite pensive. Aralynn figured she was trying to deduce how she and Harry could have identical scars.

As the minutes crawled on, students slowly dispersed from the Common Room. Aralynn kept eyeing the clock, trying to think of any excuse she could to get away from them. When the hands struck ten o'clock, she jumped up. She told them that it was late, and that she was going to get a decent night's rest before their last round of exams in the morning. They seemed surprised, and a bit sad, but accepted it nonetheless. They said goodnight to her—as well as they could, as she had already been rushing off.

Aralynn was grateful that her dormitory still stood empty. She wobbled over to the vanity at her bed's side and pressed her palms into its tabletop. She leaned her weight into it; heaving great, desperate breaths into her chest. The room was spinning rapidly around her. Sweat rolled from her forehead and down her face. She lifted her head to look at her reflection. She couldn't recognize the person who was staring back at her. "Who are you?" she whispered to the mirror.

She stumbled from the vanity to the bed. She flopped onto it, face piling into her pillow. She closed her eyes and tried to regain her composure. The more she tried, the harder her heart seemed to beat. When the wave of slumber washed over her, she didn't fight it.

_Anything_, she thought, _would be better than being awake_.

She was wrong.

The blinding green light came to haunt her again. Once more, there was the high-pitching cackling, the desperate screaming, the warm female voice, and the hooded figure with piercing red eyes pointing its wand held by gnarly fingers. Though, more than there was before—a gaze through bars, lying on the floor, was the same slender redhaired woman Aralynn had seen when Harry hugged her. She had fallen in an awkward position. Seen in her green eyes was the fading of life. A single, clear tear escaping her right eye.

* * *

Aralynn was awakened in the morning by Hermione shaking her rather violently. Her eyes fought to open, but when they did, her friend was staring down at her with a wild gaze. She moved back and let out a hefty breath of relief. She raised her hand to her chest, pressing it in. Aralynn forced her aching body up, watching Hermione frantically touch the girl's face and feel her pulse.

Through a dry throat, Aralynn asked: "Hermione – what are you doing?"

"Making sure you're alive," answered Hermione.

Aralynn stared at her. "_What_?"

"I thought you were dead!" she declared. "You haven't moved all night, and it hardly looked like you were breathing. I was worrying out of my skin, Ara."

"Well, I'm fine," Aralynn told her, placing her hand to her head. "Wicked headache, though."

"You had best get ready. Exams will be starting soon."

Despite everything in her body screaming for her to stay in bed, Aralynn prepared herself. She went through the motions of showering, brushing her teeth and hair, and changing into a clean uniform. She walked with Harry, Hermione, and Ron to their last round of exams. Honestly, Aralynn could hardly focus the entire time her quill moved across the parchment. Part of her was answering the posed questions, but the rest of her was thinking about the dead woman she had seen in her nightmare. The sight of her lifeless body, and her crying eyes, made Aralynn unexplainably emotional. The more she thought about the woman, the more her eyes welled with tears. She felt such a loss for a woman she had never even seen before.

Aralynn hadn't even realized it when she finished her exams, was dismissed, wandered the grounds, and settled by the Black Lake under a tree. She honed back into the world in the middle of Harry talking. "It means danger is coming," he said. "I just _know_ it."

Hermione was watching Harry. Her eyes skirted, briefly, to Aralynn. "Maybe it's just the stress of exams."

"You can relax now," said Ron. "We have one whole, blissful week of freedom before our results come in. It might stop hurting now."

Harry shook his head. "It doesn't have anything to do with exams. I just know it."

Aralynn was listening while she watched Fred, George, and Lee Jorden tickling the giant squid's tentacles while it waded in the warm shallows. The day was quite hot—blistering, even. While Aralynn may have enjoyed it otherwise, she was cursing it for making her sweat more than she had been for the past few weeks.

"Something is coming!" Harry exploded. "Something _really_ bad is going to happen. I can just _feel_ it. It involves the Philosopher's Stone!"

Hermione sighed. "Harry, the Stone is going to be safe so long as Professor Dumbledore is around. Which, he is. He would never let anyone or anything get to it—why do you think there are so many things protecting it? Fluffy included."

Ron was nodding. "Besides, there's no way that Snape has figured out how to get past him. He tried once already, remember? Fluffy nearly ripped his leg off!"

Harry shook his head. "Something is off."

Aralynn was almost fading in and out of reality when there was a sudden snap of realization. She sat up, turning towards them. They seem quite surprised to see that she was present. She must have been absent for quite some time. "Come with me."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione struggled to keep up with her as she scrambled up the grassy slopes. She was nearly running towards the Dark Forest. They almost thought that _was_ where she was heading until she saw Hagrid's hut come into view. He was sitting outside in a rocking chair with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He was shelling peas.

"Aralynn!" Ron called after her. "What's going on?"

Aralynn didn't respond. As soon as Hagrid caught sight of them, he perked up. "Hullo there!" he called cheerily. "Must be nice ter be done with yer exams, eh? How's th' freedom feelin'? Got time fer a drink?"

"Please," Ron agreed, panting.

"No," Aralynn intervened. She marched right up to Hagrid. "Do you remember the night you won Norbert?"

Hagrid was slow to respond. His lips were stretched into an awkward smile. "Sum o' it…" he answered embarrassedly. "Why?"

"The stranger you won the egg from—do you remember what he looked like?"

Hagrid squinted his eyes thoughtfully. "Er—no. He was wearin' a cloak. Never took it off. Not that tha's unusual, though. Ye get all sorts o' funny people down at the Hog's Head."

Harry and Hermione were starting to realize where she was going with the questions. Ron was still completely in the dark. He kept looking back and forth, trying his best to follow the conversation.

Aralynn sat on the median step leading to his door. She was clutching the robes around her knees. "What did you talk about? Can you remember any of it?"

The man seemed almost offended that she would ask if he could remember any of it. Though, by the looks of his face, he _couldn't_ remember much of it. "Some," he said, setting the bowl of shelled peas down. "Ah… we talked a bit 'bout Hogwarts. Told 'im what I do here—the gamekeeper an' all. We had quite a few drinks, an' he told me tha' he had a dragon egg on 'im. Asked if I'd want it. I told him o'course! I've always wanted ter have a dragon. He said I could 'ave it if I beat 'im at cards. So, I took 'im up on th' offer. I told 'im that lookin' after a dragon wouldn't be hard—not after Fluffy."

Harry's eyes flashed. "Did he seem interested in Fluffy?"

Hagrid snorted. "Everyone's interested in Fluffy!" he roared. "He's a three-headed dog! Ye can't go wrong with that! Any beast won't be hard to handle if ya know how to calm 'em. See, with Fluffy, all's you gotta do is play 'im a bit o' music. He'll fall right asleep!"

Ron had finally caught up on the conversation. Just as Hagrid was realizing that he shouldn't have said anything, they had all bolted away from the hut. They were rushing toward the castle, panickily talking amongst themselves. "Harry, what are we going to do?" asked Hermione.

"We have to go to Dumbledore," Harry told her. "He has to stop Snape from getting the Stone."

They bustled into the castle. They looked back and forth, trying to figure out where Dumbledore's office was. There were no obvious signs, and so they began to move frantically through the halls, eyeing every door they could. "It must have been Snape or Voldemort himself playing Hagrid at cards," said Aralynn. "It's not hard to get information out of someone when they're drunk."

They nearly slammed right into Professor McGonagall. She had a hefty pile of books in her arms, and she was standing outside of Dumbledore's office. "What are you four doing in here? I shouldn't have expected you to be inside on such a beautiful day—after exams, no less."

"We need to speak with Professor Dumbledore," said Harry.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Why?"

Harry shifted awkwardly. "It's urgent."

"_What_ is it?"

"I… It's a secret."

McGonagall's nostrils flared. "Well, Professor Dumbledore is not here. He left a few minutes ago to attend to business at the Ministry of Magic."

"_Now_?" Aralynn breathed, exasperated. "This is important!"

McGonagall's chest puffed. "Surely, an owl from the Ministry is _far_ more important than whatever it is you could have to tell him."

The children looked amongst themselves. Should they tell her?

"It's about the Philosopher's Stone," Harry told her.

The woman gawked at him, nearly dropping the books in her arms. "How do you know about that?"

Aralynn shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Somebody is going to try and steal it!"

She looked suspicious. "Professor Dumbledore will return tomorrow. I don't know _how_ you could have possibly found out about the Stone, but I assure you that nobody will be trying to steal it. It is far too well protected."

Harry nearly lurched forward. "But Professor—"

"Enough," McGonagall growled. "I know what I am talking about. I suggest you return to the wondrous sunshine. Immediately."

The students wandered away. When they were sure McGonagall was out of earshot, Harry turned on his heel. "Dumbledore is gone. The Stone _will_ be stolen tonight. It's the perfect storm. Snape has all of the information he needs now. I bet the note was a forgery."

They were moving through the corridors again, trying to decide what they should do, when they came across Snape. The man sneered down at them wickedly, giving each of them a suspicious gaze. "And what…" he began slowly and grimily, "would four students be doing inside on such a glorious day?"

They sputtered over their explanations, throwing out something that made absolutely no sense. When Snape leered at them, they went silent. They felt, surely, they had been caught. "By your behavior, some may think that you're… _up_… to something. As I would _hope_ that isn't the case. Gryffindor couldn't stand to lose _more_ points, could they?"

"We were going to the Common Room to change," said Aralynn with a strong voice.

Snape seemed to stall when she spoke. He watched her for a moment longer than he should have before turning his malice back onto Harry. "If you are planning on another midnight stroll around the castle, Potter, I will be sure to have you caught and expelled _immediately_."

He savored another few minutes of making them uncomfortable with his hate-filled stare. He slithered past them and allowed them to return to the Common Room. They filed in and collapsed onto the couch together. They needed to come up with a plan—and quickly.

"That's it," said Harry. "I'm going after that Stone tonight. I'll try my best to get there before Snape does. He _can't_ get his hands on it. If he does, that means Voldemort comes back. There will be no hope left if that happens. Hogwarts won't exist anymore, and he'll likely have us all killed—even just for the sport of it. I can't worry about expulsion now. If _he_ comes back, there will be no point in even coming to school. This man killed my parents. I can't let him return and kill even more people. I'm going to try and _save_ us. I'll take the invisibility cloak."

Ron cocked his head. "Will it fit the four us?"

Harry was taken aback. "The _four_ of us?"

Hermione laughed. "You don't think you're going alone, do you, Harry?"

Harry Potter was looking confused. Why would they put themselves in harm's way? Why not let him, and him alone, make the sacrifice?

Aralynn smiled softly at Harry and placed her hand over his. "We're coming with you, Harry. If a savior is going to be born; it's going to be born in _all_ of us. This is _our_ fight, too."

They huddled in a circle, putting their heads together, and wrapped their arms around each other. They knew very well that it could be the last time they were ever close again. They wanted to savor their last possible moments together.

"It's now or never."


	17. Recognition

When the moon took the sun's place in the sky, and all stragglers from the Common Room had gone; Aralynn Weasley, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter prepared to walk directly into danger. They took their time changing out of their pajamas. They knew, quite well, that there was a chance they wouldn't survive long enough to make it to morning. The thought of dying at all—let alone at such a young age—frightened them to their cores. Their fates were up in the air. In spite of this, they continued on. They would gladly sacrifice their own lives to protect that of the rest of the wizarding world. Once they stepped foot out of the Gryffindor Common Room, shielded by Harry's invisibility cloak, there would be no turning back. The chance of facing certain death at eleven and twelve-years-old didn't seem to matter when the burning of the world was at stake. Bravery, in this instance—just as many others—would have to conquer fear.

Aralynn Weasley tiptoed around the beds of her sleeping bunkmates. She stood before her vanity, staring deeply into her reflection. She tied her hair up, forcing even breaths as she did. There was no way of knowing if she was going to be able to see her own face again. At that moment, while she looked at her own features, she recognized the person in the mirror—which she hadn't been able to do since the year had begun. Whoever she was, in retrospect, was no longer important. Whether she was the person she was raised to believe she was, or not—the person she saw was brave, strong, and true. All other possibilities were trivial. She didn't have to be anyone in particular to be that brave, strong, and true person. The truth of her life wouldn't change who she was at her core. For the first time in countless days; she _knew_ herself.

Hermione Granger's reflection appeared behind hers in the mirror. Aralynn focused her eyes on the girl's grim expression. "Are you ready?" she whispered.

Aralynn took one last opportunity to view herself. She exhaled calmly. "As I'll ever be."

Together, they met Ron and Harry in front of the fireplace. They gazed at each other, likely trying to remember what their friends' faces looked like before anything could go wrong. They took a moment to clasp hands. The hour of question had finally rung.

Harry took the folded invisibility cloak out from underneath his shirt. "It might be best to test it out here," he said. "We need to know if the four of us will be able to fit underneath it."

Aralynn nodded. "If not, other measures will need to be taken."

They huddled together while Harry placed the cloak over their heads. From what they could tell, it seemed to be working. Just as the cloth was being removed, the dark silhouette of someone appeared from the corner. They nearly jumped out of their skin… until they realized that it was Neville Longbottom. He was wearing teddy bear pajamas.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, attempting to falsify confidence through his wavering voice. "You're trying to leave again, aren't you?"

Aralynn held up her hands while Harry whisked the cloak out of sight. "Now, Neville—this isn't what it looks like."

"What is it, then?" His words quaked far too much for his efforts to steel himself to succeed. He was shaking, but he also wasn't backing down. Perhaps Neville had finally had enough. "Stop whatever it is you're planning. If you get caught, you'll doom Gryffindor."

Harry stepped forward. He wanted to try and reason with the boy. "Neville, please—we know what is at stake, but this is _important_."

"Life or death," said Hermione.

"I don't believe you," Neville croaked. "I won't let you go." The boy stepped in front of the portrait and raised his fists. He tried desperately to temper his trembling. He looked ready to topple at any moment.

Nevertheless, Aralynn had to credit his courage.

"Don't be stupid, Neville," said Ron quietly. His voice almost sounded dangerous. "You have to let us pass."

"I'm not stupid!" roared Neville. "You're the ones who have been telling me that I'm braver than I think—that I should stand up to people!"

"We recognize you for that," said Aralynn, "but, Neville, this isn't the _time_."

Neville repositioned his lowering arms. He held his fists tighter. "You'll have to fight me. If you want to go by—you'll have to. Hit me, then."

Aralynn and Hermione eyed each other. They seemed to be communicating without speaking. Hermione tilted her head. Aralynn nodded.

The brunette girl stepped forward. She drew her wand. "Neville, I want you to know this now… I'm _really_ sorry." She waved her wand. "_Petrificus Totalus_."

Neville suddenly went rigid. His statue-like body held strong, briefly, before tottering and falling to the floor. The sound resembled that of collapsing stone. Harry and Ron looked somewhat alarmed.

"Hermione," called Harry. "What did you do to him?"

Hermione tucked her wand away. "The Full Body-Bind Curse," she answered. "He'll be paralyzed for a while, but it'll fade. Come on, we haven't got any time to waste."

Once more, they clustered together. Harry covered them with his cloak again. Hopefully, all of their body parts had disappeared underneath it. They couldn't be sure, but it was a risk they were going to have to take. They exited the Common Room. They may as well have been stepping directly into fire.

They shuffled quietly through the empty corridors. Their nerves were almost getting the best of them. With every little sound, and every dark statue, they thought, surely, that they had been caught by one of the professors, or worse—Mr. Filch. However, they were in the clear. They hadn't come across a single soul. That was, until they encountered Mrs. Norris sitting at the top of the third floor's steps. They maneuvered, as stealthily as possible, around her. She had turned her lamp-like eyes in their direction but did nothing. She must have sensed that they were there, but couldn't see them, and therefore felt no desire to alert Filch. They tiptoed down the hall until they reached the door that they were sure Fluffy was behind.

Unfortunately, it stood ajar. Snape had already been there.

"What if we're too late?" whispered Hermione.

"It's still a chance we'll have to take," Aralynn replied.

They stepped into the room. As soon as they did, they were nearly knocked over by three large sniffing snouts. Fluffy could smell them, but he couldn't see them. Nonetheless, he knew that someone was in the room. He was growling lowly and threateningly. They had to put him to sleep as quickly as possible. Harry took out the ugly flute that Hagrid had whittled him for Christmas and began to play. It was a rather hideous tune, but it did what needed to be done in putting the dog to sleep. They pulled the cloak off of their bodies and shut the room's door. They didn't want to risk being caught simply because it was still open. While Fluffy lie sleeping on the floor, Ron moved to pull the trapdoor back. He peered down it, frowning.

"What's down there?" asked Aralynn.

"I don't know," he answered. "I can't see anything."

"Who'll go first? Hermione?"

Hermione went stark white. "Me? _No_!"

Ron glowered at her. He gritted his teeth. "Fine. I'll go first."

Harry suddenly handed the flute off to Aralynn. Fluffy began to shift and growl. She scrambled to play it again before the dog fully woke. She watched the other three while she made sure the dog stayed asleep.

"I'll go first," said Harry. He took a breath to brace himself. Though, he wasn't sure there was any way to _actually_ prepare for a fall into uncertain blackness. He slowly lowered himself down the hole until he was simply holding on by his fingertips. He seemed hesitant to let go, but after a moment, he did. He had landed on something solid not too far down. "It's safe!"

One after another, Ron and Hermione followed Harry through the trapdoor. Aralynn slowly slid over to it while still playing the flute. Once she moved it from her lips, and Fluffy began to stir, she took the leap. She thought for sure that she was going to splatter like a bug, but she didn't. She had, however, flattened Ron by falling on top of him. She scrabbled to pull herself off.

Ron was definitely winded. His voice was hoarse. "Thanks for that, Ara."

Aralynn offered an awkward smile. "Sorry."

Harry was poking at whatever they had landed on with his feet. "It's like a plant," he said. He would have counted them lucky for it being there until he noticed that its vines were wrapping around his limbs. "Uh… guys?"

However, they, too, were being encased by the plant. They were horrified. Were they going to die before they were even able to confront Snape? Ron was trying to rip them away, but they only seemed to clutch stronger with his movements. "What do we do!?"

Hermione had managed to get away from the plant before it got a good grip on her. Aralynn had been trying to follow, but the tendrils wrapped far too tightly around her ankles. She looked up at the girl desperately. "_Hermione_."

"Let me think," said the girl. Aralynn gawked at her. What time did she have to _think_?

Ron was practically fist-fighting the tendrils. He didn't seem the notice that, the more he moved, the faster he was consumed. Harry was squirming as well, but not nearly as badly as Ron was. Aralynn thought certainly that her brother was doomed.

"I've got it!" Hermione exclaimed. "It's the Devil's Snare! If only I could remember what Professor Sprout had said about it. It was sort of like a rhyme. Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare…"

"It's deadly fun…" Aralynn gasped out as a vine wrapped around her throat.

"—but with sulk in the sun! That's it! The Devil's Snare _hates_ light. I could light a fire, but… oh, there's no _wood_!"

"HERMIONE!" Ron screamed. "WOOD? ARE YOU SERIOUS? ARE YOU NOT A WITCH?"

Suddenly, the girl livened. "Right!" She pointed her wand at the tendrils grasping her friends. "_Lacarnum Inflamari_!"

The Devil's Snare seemed to shriek when the jets of flame were whisked at it. It immediately released Harry, Ron, and Aralynn and retreated from the light. They took the opportunity to hurry out of its clutches and down a stone passageway. Aralynn was still picking small, dead pieces of roots out of her hair when they came to the next chamber. It was a large, brilliantly lit room. Near to the high, curving ceiling flew dozens of tiny little birds above head. There were so many of them that the fluttering of their wings was almost deafening.

Across the room was a large, ancient and heavy-looking door. They eyed it, trying to figure out what the challenge was. Ron tapped his foot. "Maybe the birds are there to protect the door?" he suggested rather haphazardly. "I guess they could come down and peck your eyes out if you got too close."

Harry was watching the birds. "Could be," he shrugged. "Wait here." He bolted for the door, shielding his face as he went. It was clear that he had been expecting to be savagely poked at by the beaks of birds, but he reached the door unscathed. They hadn't even attempted to swoop for him. He was trying to pry the door open. He even tried the Unlocking Charm—to no avail. He threw his hands up. "What now?"

Aralynn was staring the birds down. The way they were flying was throwing her off. Something about them just didn't seem right. Their appearance in the light was… unusual. They were almost like little jewels. They were glittering, even. Birds didn't glitter. "Guys," she called. "They're not birds. They're keys."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. He scanned the room until he spotted a couple of brooms. "_Oh_. We're meant to ride the brooms to find the key to open the door."

"How do we know which one is the _right_ one?" asked Ron.

"I'm assuming it'll resemble the lock," Hermione stated, gesturing to it. "It'll probably look really ancient. Expect it to be heavy."

They each mounted the given brooms and flew into the air. They tried going after keys they thought would fit the door. The keys, however, were far too fast for them. Every attempt at snatching them was expertly evaded. They were beginning to grow rightfully frustrated. Harry was hovering above them, using his adept Seeker eyes to find it. "There it is!" he called, pointing to a big, fat rusty key with bright blue wings.

They all went after it but, like the rest, it was just _too fast_. It had to be up to Harry to catch it. After all, he _was_ the youngest Seeker in a century. If anyone could do it; it would be him. Even _his_ sole attempts were failing. They had to strategize—to which Harry suggested they box it in so it would have nowhere to flee to. He devised a plan. It worked.

It had been caught, used, and released again. It fluttered clumsily back with the rest of the keys after its use. It had suffered through quite a beating. Even though it was just a key, Aralynn felt sad for it.

They walked slowly through the next corridor. It was absolutely black. There was no seeing even two inches in front of their faces. For the first time since they had gotten down there, they felt really afraid. Attempting solidarity and consolation, they took each other's hands. It was slightly relieving to know that they were there with friends who were in arm's reach.

They weren't expecting to ever see light again. They had been walking in pure darkness for so long that they were positive there was no more light left in the world. They would get lost indefinitely and die down there. Yet, with another step, fires roared to life and brought sight back into the room. They were almost blinded by it.

Before them stood a tremendous, life-size chessboard. White pieces stood dormant on one side; while black pieces lined the other. They stood on the edge of the board, mouths hanging open with astonishment. It was a grand sight, undoubtedly, but what were they supposed to do? What was the challenge here? Harry and Hermione definitely looked confused. Ron and Aralynn looked mortified.

"Now _this_," spluttered Aralynn, "is _madness_."

Harry jerked his attention over. "What? Why? Do you know what we're supposed to do?"

Ron swallowed hard. "Play the game."

"Play the game?" Hermione repeated, panicky. "How?"

"Well… I think we're going to have to be chessmen, Hermione."

"How in the bloody hell are we supposed to do that?" spat Aralynn through clenched teeth.

"We'll have to take some of the pieces' places," Ron told them. "I should direct. None of you are very good at chess. Not even you, Ara."

Aralynn nodded slightly. "You're not wrong."

Ron directed them to their places. Harry replaced one of the bishops, Hermione became a rook, and Aralynn stood in as one of the eight pawns. They were definitely feeling unconfident about this particular challenge. Wizard's Chess was brutal, and this situation could very well result in one of their deaths.

Once they were settled, white was the first to move—such were the rules of chess. They played through the game via Ron's direction. He was moving them through quite cleanly. If he had only one talent, it would _definitely_ be Wizard's Chess. They had faced no issue the entire time. Though, with each order; they changed places with bated breath. They were expecting to be impaled at any given moment.

As Aralynn moved around the board, she thought about how her life as of late seemed to resemble chess. Her life, like the game, was always undergoing unexpected changes. Each step had to be carefully calculated, and its fate loomed staggeringly in wait. She had had a lot of time to reflect on the events that had taken place up until her current situation. Being a pawn seemed to come naturally to her—in more ways than just a game of chess. The oddness that had followed her since her confrontation with Garrick Ollivander _and_ Lucius Malfoy at Diagon Alley finally seemed to be piecing together. Since she received her Hogwarts acceptance letter, many people seemed to treat her as though she were someone different. Naturally, she thought it peculiar, and even began questioning her own identity, but she had never put great stock into their words. Aralynn had felt confused about who she was, but she had merely summed it up to personal character rather than literal _identity_. Funnily enough, it had only taken a match of Wizard's Chess for her to realize that she had been questioning the wrong aspects of her life.

The feelings of doubt didn't stem from what she felt her personality and character were supposed to be, but instead, who she _actually_ was. The picture wasn't clear, but the odd behavior—the connections with Harry; the nightmares of past events she couldn't place, but felt she _knew_; the _scars_… they were connecting like pieces of a puzzle.

There were sounds of a struggle and Aralynn jerked her attention to their second knight piece when it was taken and dragged off of the board. The other three were looking quite shaken. Harry was swaying back and forth uncomfortably. Ron explained his reasoning. They didn't question him.

"What's next?" asked Hermione. "We've been idle for a while."

Ron nodded. "I know. I've been trying to think of the next move to make. We've nearly beaten them, but… there are a few more things that have to happen before then. I've been taking my time to figure what the next move is, but… I know now."

Aralynn stared at Ron. "Which _is_?"

The redhaired boy closed his eyes. He was silent for a long time before they snapped back open. "I have to be taken."

Harry, Hermione, and Aralynn in unison hollered. "NO!"

"What other choice do we have!?" he snapped. "That's the game of chess! Everyone has to make sacrifices!"

Harry was shaking his head. "Ron, no! There was to be another way!"

"There _isn't_! Do you want to stop Snape or not, Harry? This is the _only_ way! He could have the Stone by now!"

Having Ron be taken by the opposing queen was their only solution. Once it happened, Harry would be free to checkmate their king. Once that happened, the game would be over, and they would be able to continue on… but at what _cost_? At the cost of Ron himself?

They watched, nauseated, as Ron made his move. As soon as he took a single step, the white queen came lunging in. She whacked Ron upside the head with her stone sword quite violently. She dragged his body off of the board. Though Harry assured he was simply unconscious, he appeared to be dead. Aralynn felt her heart breaking.

Harry checked the king. The game was over. They couldn't go to Ron's aide. They had to progress as quickly as possible. They spared him one last concerned glance before ushering on. They were silent while they walked. They didn't want to discuss the very real possibility that Ron was dead.

"How many challenges do we have left?" asked Aralynn.

Hermione was thinking. "Let's see… Devil's Snare – Professor Sprout; Keys – Flitwick; Chess _had_ to have been McGonagall. Only Snape and Quirrell's remain."

They went past a room that had an unconscious troll lying on the ground—Quirrell's challenge. It was even larger than the one they had fought in the bathroom on Halloween. The smell of the creature could have been enough to stop them dead. They were thankful that they didn't have to deal with it. They figured it would be the only time in their lives that they would be thanking Snape for _anything_.

They pushed a door open to reveal only a simple table with various colored and shaped glass vials on top of it. There was nothing particularly menacing about this trial. It seemed like it would be the easiest one to accomplish. At least, that's what they hoped. They approached the table, and as soon as they were all inside, the perimeter of the room erupted in flames. It was no ordinary fire—in fact, it was purple. Black flames separated them from the door leading onwards. There was a scroll on the tabletop. Aralynn picked it up and began reading.

* * *

"_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind._

_Two of us will help you, whichever you would find._

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead._

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide,_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side._

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend._

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides._

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right,_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight_."

* * *

"It's a logical puzzle," said Hermione. "That should be easy enough to figure out."

Harry stared at her. "It _will_?"

"Of course, Harry. Aralynn, would you come help me?"

Aralynn moved forward, reading over the scroll several times with her. They studied the bottles and discussed it amongst themselves. Harry stood back, watching them work together to deduce the puzzle. They seemed to be in their element. They were smiling at each other, even. Laughing. They pointed to different bottles and offered suggestions. Sometimes one or the other was right; sometimes they were wrong. It would simply take time to figure out.

"We've got it," said Aralynn. "This bottle—the smallest one—will get us through the black fire. That rounded bottle at the opposite end will take the drinker backward, through the purple."

Harry walked over to the tiny bottle and picked it up. "We won't all be able to go on. There's barely enough in here for _one_ person. We might be able to fit two, but… it'd be a longshot."

Aralynn was looking at Harry. Her eyes flickered to his scar. "It begs the question of who is going where."

The boy sucked in a solid bout of air. He pushed it out slowly, adjusting his glasses on his face. "Hermione – Aralynn, drink that one." He gestured to the rounded bottle. "Go back for Ron and get help. I'll have to go stop Snape."

Hermione glanced at Aralynn. "What if it's You-Know-Who and not Snape? What if they in there _together_?"

Harry shook his head. "We can't stop now, can we? It's likely only one of us will be able to pass through the black flames, and it should be _me_. Especially if it _is_ Voldemort. I survived him once. I can do it again… hopefully."

"You're a great wizard, Harry. I have faith in you."

Harry flushed. "Not as great as you, Hermione."

Hermione chuckled. "All of our skills are valuable in one way or another."

They hugged.

"You'll go back to Ron?" asked Harry.

She nodded. "Go on, then."

Harry exhaled sharply. He took the remaining swig from the bottle and went through the fire. When he was gone, Aralynn and Hermione turned to each other. They were grinning, almost sadly, at one another.

"You know I have to do this," said Aralynn.

Hermione nodded. "I do. It's the only way you'll get answers."

Aralynn grinned at her. "We have the same theory, don't we?"

Hermione laughed. "I reckon we do."

Aralynn took the bottle Harry had drunk from. There was only a very minuscule amount left. She mixed it with the nettle wine, turning to look at Hermione. "We're sure this is going to work, right?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, but for a _very_ short time. Stand by the fire so you can drink it and run. I'll get back to Ron once you're gone."

Aralynn stood next to the black flames. They were making her legs burn. She took the bottle and held it in her hand. For a moment, she and Hermione just looked at each other. The redhead took a deep breath. "This is it. The moment of truth."

Hermione reached out to touch her hand. "It'll be better once it's over. You'll know then."

The girls embraced one another tightly. Whether or not they would be seeing each other again wasn't definitive. They wanted their possible last moments spent expressing the friendship they valued so deeply in one another. Aralynn stepped back, fingering the bottle in her hands. "You're the smartest witch I know, Hermione."

Hermione smiled brightly at her. "You're the smartest witch _I_ know," she said, "and the bravest."

"I'll see you." Aralynn took the bottle and downed it. When she felt her body go cold, she lurched herself through the fire. Luckily, she had been standing next to it; as within the next second, the sensation was gone. She set the glass bottle down and ran down the corridor until she caught up with Harry. He was quite surprised to see her.

"Aralynn, what are you doing here? You're supposed to help Ron."

"Hermione is," she said. "I wasn't going to let you do this alone, Harry."

"Kind of foolish, don't you think?"

"And _you_ aren't?"

Harry grinned. "Fair point."

They were standing dormant in the hall. They could see light nearby. That would be the final step for them—when everything came to a close. They would face off with Snape, and they'd either win, or they'd die. It was as simple as that. The moment was their final countdown, and they were glad to be doing it together.

Harry reached his hand out. Aralynn stared at it, and for once, didn't feel apprehensive about touching him. She took it. They held each other's grasp tightly. The connection sparked, but Aralynn didn't feel the urge to pull away. The longer they held hands, the stronger it grew. It made them feel protected—safe—_whole_.

They turned forward, and with linked fingers, entered the room.


	18. Revelation

The time for reconsideration was gone. Before, they could have chosen any moment to turn back. They could have decided they that they weren't meant to stop the Philosopher's Stone from being stolen and utilized. Unquestionably, they had each pondered what implications their actions would have. There were countless reasons for fear and doubt, but none of them had seemed to matter much compared to what would inevitably happen if Nicolas Flamel's greatest work fell into the hands of Lord Voldemort. Their choice to risk death paled in comparison to the guaranteed death they would have received through Severus Snape's success. Their bravery was undeniable, but it was foolhardy to believe that they did not tremble in the face of probable demise. Be that as it may, each of the four adolescents knew that it was the time for action. On the outside, it would indeed seem as though such young people would have nothing to fight for, but the truth was that they had _everything_ to fight for. Their existences—their livelihoods—and the lives of those they cared for most, were at stake. Ron and Aralynn were fighting for their family—for The Burrow—even for themselves. Hermione Granger was fighting for her education—for her future—for her _friends_… and Harry Potter? Harry Potter was fighting for Hogwarts—for hope that he could one day leave the Dursleys—for _his_ friends. None of what they cared for would remain if the Philosopher's Stone was lost.

Harry Potter and Aralynn Weasley were both hyperaware of this as they slowly entered the large chamber ahead; one step at a time. As they reached the bottom of the stairs together, hand-in-hand, they could see the man they had been hunting all this time. He was alone in the chamber—aside from a large, ornate mirror. Aralynn recognized it as the Mirror of Erised. However, the man wasn't Professor Snape; nor was he even Lord Voldemort. The man eyeing his own reflection was someone who they had been rooting for since Christmas—Quirinus Quirrell, the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

Harry and Aralynn were both in a state of shock. They were even considering whether or not the sight before them was some kind of glamor. It was _impossible_ that the culprit all along had been Professor Quirrell… for he seemed too feeble; too frightened of his own shadow. To think that this man, all along, was a great evil? Inconceivable.

When Quirrell saw Harry and Aralynn appear in the mirror's glass, he turned around to face them. "I've been expecting you," he said. "Harry, anyway. Yet, Aralynn, your presence is a pleasant twist."

Harry Potter shook his head so aggressively that Aralynn was sure his brains would come pouring from his ears. "No," he said. "It _can't_ be you. There's no way! Professor Snape—"

Quirrell laughed loudly; a laugh that chilled Aralynn to her bones. "Snape? I can't say I'm surprised you would think that. He seems quite the criminal, doesn't he? The way he swoops around like a rabid bat… No – you and your little friends were wrong. All this time, Snape has been trying to _stop_ me."

"_Stop_ you?" asked Harry incredulously. "But Snape tried to _kill_ me. During my first Quidditch match."

Again, Quirrell sniggered. "No, Harry. Snape didn't try to kill you. That was _my_ doing. I likely would have succeeded, too. I was _so_ close to throwing you off that broom, but then Miss Granger came barreling in to save the day. She knocked me aside when she was going to light Snape's cloak on fire. My eye contact with you broke. Seems silly, now. All that time Snape spent muttering his little countercurse… and for what? Only for me to kill you here—now."

Aralynn looked over to Harry. He didn't seem to know what to say.

"Why would Snape want to save me? He hates me."

"Why do you think he chose to referee your next Quidditch match, Potter? He wanted to make sure that nothing more would be done to you. He had already been suspicious of me after I let that troll into the castle on Halloween. From that moment, he would never give me a moment's peace. He kept an annoyingly close eye on me." With a snap of his fingers, ropes wrapped around Harry and Aralynn's bodies. They tried to fight them, but they couldn't break free. "Enough talk."

Aralynn watched Quirrell stare ravenously at his reflection. He even reached out to touch the mirror, cursing under his breath when he was stopped by glass. She looked over to Harry, who appeared to be feeling helpless. She only wished that she could reach out and comfort him.

"This is Dumbledore's doing," said Quirrell. "It must be. The mirror is undoubtedly the key to finding the Stone, but how? The only thing I must do is figure out the riddle."

Harry and Aralynn knew that they had to keep Quirrell's attention off of the mirror. They needed to buy time before he figured out how to access the Stone. "The Stone is for Voldemort, isn't it?" asked Aralynn.

Quirrell turned sharply. "You dare say his name?"

Aralynn stared defiantly at him. "The Philosopher's Stone grants the user immortality. You're trying to get it for him so that he can come back, and never die, aren't you?"

"Clever girl," sneered the man. "I have been trying to find ways to bring him back to power for quite some time. Only, I kept _failing_. He was rather disappointed in me. Until I found out about the Stone, that is. It was his only shot of rejuvenation. I _had_ to get it for him."

Harry struggled with his binds while Aralynn spoke. However, it didn't seem to be working. Whatever enchantment held them had to be quite powerful. Quirrell faced the mirror again. He circled it a few times, trying to discern whether or not there was some kind of hidden door in the mirror. He stopped before the glass again, shaking his head. "Of course, Dumbledore's trick would be the most elaborate. He just_ had_ to make it exceedingly difficult, didn't he? Well, not to worry. I'll figure it out, and once I have the Stone, I'll kill you both and run. I have plenty of time to escape while he's away in London."

Harry was trying to think of something else to distract Quirrell. "I saw you and Snape arguing in the Dark Forest."

Quirrell waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, well, he was hounding me by that time. He wanted to know how far I'd gotten in my mission. He thought he could scare me into confession, but that was idiotic of him. How could he think I would be afraid of _him_? When I have someone as powerful as Lord Voldemort behind me?"

"Maybe because light always overpowers darkness," said Aralynn while trying her best to reach her wand. She was so close, but she couldn't lift her shoulder high enough to grab the base of it.

Quirrell, however, had ignored her. He was tapping the glass thoughtfully. "I can see myself in the reflection. I am presenting the Stone to my master, but _how_ do I get it?" He turned to look at them. "Do you know how to work this confounded mirror?"

They didn't answer him. Instead, Harry posed a distraction. "Snape seems to hate me so much for someone who _wasn't_ trying to kill me."

Quirrell scoffed. "Oh, don't be fooled. Snape _does_ hate you. He went to school with your father." He gestured to the _both_ of them. Aralynn's eyes narrowed. "They despised each other. He sees too much of your father in you, and that's why he hates you. Enough to want you dead, though? No."

Aralynn was about to speak before Harry interrupted her. "I've seen you getting worse over time," he said. "The closer Snape got, the sicker you looked. I heard you the other day—you were in a classroom. You were _crying_."

The statement seemed to trigger Quirrell. For the first time since they had come to confront him, he looked genuinely afraid. He fiddled with his hands nervously. "Yes, well… Sometimes my master gives me difficult tasks. I am weak, and he is powerful. I struggle to follow his instruction on occasion."

Harry went pale. "He was there? He was at Hogwarts? In the classroom?"

The man turned back to the mirror. His eyes flickered to the reflection of the purple turban wrapped around his head. "My master is always near. I was young when we met. Young and foolish—too idealistic for my own good. I had the wrong thoughts about the dichotomy of good and evil. Yes, but he helped me. He showed me the _truth_. There is no good or evil, Potter. That's something he taught me. There is only power. Power—and those too _weak_ to seek it. He has trusted me to fulfill his wishes, but I failed when it came to procuring the Stone from Gringotts. He saw it fit to punish me. He had to keep a closer eye on me to make sure that I didn't fail again. He was right for that."

The way Quirrell was holding himself told Aralynn that he was afraid of Voldemort. The awkward shifting; the fiddling of his hands; the quick, incessant blinking. Perhaps he hadn't feared Snape, but he surely feared his master. He raised a fist to the mirror, seeming ready to break it. "Perhaps the Stone is _inside_ the mirror."

Aralynn's attention was drawn to Harry's movements. He was trying to inch sideways. He seemed to be aiming for the mirror. They had both visited it—knew what it did. He had to of been trying to see his reflection so that the Stone's location would be revealed to him. However, he stumbled too strongly and fell over. Aralynn slid over, trying to help him up.

"I do not know how this mirror works!" Quirrell fumed. "How can I make this mirror give me the Stone? Master, please, I need your help."

Suddenly, there was a fourth voice in the room. It didn't seem to come from anywhere in particular. The sound of it was horrifying. A dark, menacing whisper of a voice. It made her feel like she was poisoned. It hissed almost like a snake. All it said was: "Use the boy."

Quirrell snapped his fingers again and Harry's bindings came undone. Aralynn remained tied and still, watching the scene unfurl before her. He rounded on the boy. "Come, Potter. Look into this mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry slowly approached the mirror. Aralynn began to panic. She needed to get free and stop him from getting any closer. What could he possibly tell Quirrell once he looked into his reflection and saw where the Stone was hidden? What lie could he think of so quickly that the man wouldn't become suspicious? She continued to work on freeing her shoulder enough to reach her wand.

When Harry got close enough, Quirrell took him by the shoulders and shoved him in front of the mirror. The man stood closely behind the boy so that he wouldn't try anything foolish. If Harry did; Quirrell would be there to stop him. "Tell me, boy—what do you see?"

Luckily, Harry responded rather quickly. "I see myself," he said. "I'm shaking hands with Dumbledore. I—I've… wow! I've won the House Cup!"

Quirrell growled and shoved Harry out of the way. "Useless," he said to the boy.

Aralynn freed her shoulder enough to inch her wand out of her pocket with her fingers. She held it tightly and waved it as best she could. "_Diffindo_," she muttered. The ropes around her were severed and fell to the ground around her feet. Quirrell didn't seem to notice. She slid the wand inside of her sleeve and hid it there in case she would need it again.

"He lies!" hissed the voice. It seemed to be coming from Quirrell's turban, but _how_?

Quirrell rounded on Harry. He grabbed the boy's collar and forced him in front of the mirror again. "Tell me the truth!" he snapped. "What do you _see_?"

Harry was petrified and silent.

"Let me speak with him… Face-to-face…"

Quirrell looked nervous. "Master, you are not strong enough."

"I have strength enough for this."

Quirinus Quirrell began unwrapping the turban from his head. Aralynn was horrified knowing that her theory that there was another person underneath the cloth was affirmed. When the purple material was removed, it was revealed that there was another face attached to the back of Quirrell's head. His eyes were what struck Aralynn the most. The piercing bloodlike eyes that she had been seeing in her nightmares. His skin was pure white. What stood in place for a nose were two slits for nostrils. He looked, quite frankly, like a snake.

"Do you see where I am, Harry?" Voldemort asked. "Do you see what I've _become_? I cannot survive without a host. I cannot have my own body! Unicorn blood has made me stronger, but it's not enough. I need the Elixir of Life. Only then will I be whole again." His attention was suddenly on the girl. "Aralynn got free from her bindings," he said to Quirrell. "You weren't paying enough _attention_! Fool!"

Aralynn walked slowly to stand at Harry's side. She brushed her hand against his; only to reassure him that she was there. They were in this together. The gleaming red eyes pierced her. She felt angry—but also felt the desire to cry. She was afraid of what was before her, sure, but this was… different. Almost a feeling of vengeance. "How do you know my name?"

Voldemort laughed. It was rather raspy. "Why wouldn't I know who you are? You had a hand in my fall, too, Aralynn."

The girl blinked. "What?"

"Where do you thank that scar on your forehead came from, girl?"

Harry turned on her. "_Scar_?"

Aralynn was outed. She brushed her bangs away from her forehead, rubbed the makeup away, and showed to him the scar she had that was identical to his. "I've been trying to hide it from you."

Harry furrowed his brow. "But—why?"

"I was told you had died," Voldemort hissed. "I came to believe that Harry was the only remaining link to my destruction. That was, until Quirrell spotted you at the introductory feast. I told him that he was wrong—it was impossible, but no. There you were—the spitting image if your Mudblood of a mother."

Aralynn was staring right into Voldemort's eyes. "My mother is Pureblood."

Voldemort cackled. "_Pureblood_? You must be brighter than this! You can't tell me you haven't figured it out by now!"

The girl closed her eyes tightly. "No."

"Don't lie to yourself, girl. There's no use in it now."

Harry was staring at Aralynn. "What does he mean, Ara?"

Voldemort's lips curled into a vindictive snarl. He was getting far too much enjoyment out of this. Aralynn couldn't bring herself to speak. Voldemort did it for her. "You were born a twin, Harry Potter. Your parents had a daughter, too. Aralynn is your sister."

The black-haired boy nearly fainted. "My… _sister_?"

"One I thought had died," Voldemort scowled. "Never matter. Harry… why don't you give me what's in your pocket?"

Aralynn glanced to Harry. Her heart was nearly beating out of her chest, but she didn't have the time to spiral. Instead, she focused her attention on her… her… _brother_. His hand snaked across his right pocket. Only then did she notice that there was something in it. He took a step back.

"Now, now, Harry…" cooed Voldemort, but coldly. "Don't make a mistake. It would be best for you to join me and save your life. Your _sister's_ life. If you don't… you'll meet the same fate your parents did… who died _begging_ for mercy."

Harry's expression hardened. "You're a _LIAR_!"

"So quick to defend those you have never met—those you have never learned to _love_." Voldemort tutted. "It's quite touching. You remind me of your father. He was brave, too. I killed him first… and he put up a valiant fight, but in the end, he was still too _weak_. Then your mother… your sweet, kind mother. If only she hadn't gotten in the way."

Aralynn remembered the woman from her nightmare. She remembered her red hair; her awkward position; her features; her green eyes and the way her life faded from them; the freckles splattered across her nose and cheeks; the tear that fell from her eye. Lily Potter. Her _mother_.

She turned to face the mirror and look in at her reflection. She saw the same thing she had before—the outlines of three people standing with her. As she stood there, they began to fill in. Now there were _people_ with her instead of silhouettes. A black-haired man with hazel eyes and glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose. A redheaded woman with warm, loving green eyes—freckles on her face. A boy her age—black of hair, green of eyes, and glasses. They were all smiling at her. They were her blood—her family. James Potter. Lily Potter. Harry Potter.

Harry had grabbed her hand and began slowly pulling her back with him. She held onto it tightly, keeping her eyes on Voldemort and Quirrell. They were coming closer with every attempt made to move away. "Give me that stone," the chalk-white face growled. "You don't want your family to have died in vain."

"NEVER!" cried Harry. He attempted to run for it, dragging Aralynn along with him. They were almost to the entranceway… so close…

But not close enough.

Quirrell's hand grasped onto Aralynn's wrist. He was trying to pull her back, but Harry wouldn't let go. Her body was caught in the middle of a vicious tug-of-war. She thought one of her arms would surely be ripped off. The struggle was brief. Quirrell had released her and stumbled back. He cried out, pained. The children looked to see that his hands had blistered.

"SEIZE THEM—_SEIZE THEM!_" Voldemort was shouting.

Quirrell was coming for them again. Aralynn, panicking, made a choice. She pushed Harry forward—giving him a chance to run while she stayed back as a distraction. Quirrell had taken ahold of her throat and was squeezing with all of his might. Between the diminishing oxygen and the fierce fire burning in her forehead—she cried in agony.

Harry wouldn't abandon his sister. He ran and shoved Quirrell off of her, only to have the man grasp his throat instead. He scratched some of the blisters open trying to free himself. The man let go, squealing loudly. "Master, I cannot hold him! My hands—my _hands_!"

Aralynn crawled over to Harry and took his hand. "He can't touch us," she croaked. "I don't know why, but he can't touch us."

"Go for the face," said Harry weakly.

"KILL THEM! KILL THEM _NOW_ AND BE DONE WITH IT!"

Quirrell lunged forward, hand in the air; ready to perform a curse. Harry and Aralynn were still holding hands when they jumped for him. They used their free ones to press into his face. All three of them were screaming now. The pain in Aralynn's forehead was making her go blind while her ears squealed like a steam engine.

They held onto him as tightly as they could, but he still managed to knock them off. They both went flying. Aralynn slammed into a stone column. Her eyes were struggling to stay open, but as long as they did, they would be on Harry. Her vision was fading in and out when she noticed the figure of somebody come running into the room. Harry's arm was lying limp, outstretched towards her. She extended hers, desperate to reach him.

* * *

When the nightmare reoccurred, Aralynn knew what it really was. It was a memory. Likely the first memory she had formed—the night her parents had been murdered, and her life was almost taken as well. She saw it through the eyes of her infant self. She had been looking at Harry, pulling on his onesie and laughing. Laughing, that was, until her mother, Lily, came flying into the room. She had slammed the door shut and locked it. A Hail Mary attempt at keeping something out. It didn't work. The door burst open and the cloaked body of Lord Voldemort came in. His wand was pointed at her. She had hers raised, too, but she wasn't quick enough. He mouthed something Aralynn couldn't hear and hurled a burst of green light at her. She staggered back and collapsed—into the same awkward position Aralynn had seen before. The tear came rolling out of her green eye. Even as unaware, defenseless babies, Harry and Aralynn had instinctively grabbed hands. They were crying then—screaming. Voldemort turned on them. He raised his wand, focusing his treacherous red eyes on them. The dirty finger pointed the wand. An incantation she couldn't understand. The green light. Searing pain on her forehead. The crumpled robes on the floor.

Bright light flooded in. Aralynn stirred, then stilled again. Her body ached something fierce. She opened her eyes slowly, seeing the high ceiling above her head. She rubbed the blur from her vision and glanced around. In a bed next to her laid Harry, who was still unconscious. He was covered with a white cotton blanket. His skin was littered with small cuts and bruises. The table between them was piled high with trinkets and candies. Sitting between the foot of their beds, in a chair, was Albus Dumbledore. He smiled at her when she gazed at him. "Sir?" she muttered, sitting up slowly. Her muscles groaned in protest. "Where am I?"

"Good afternoon," said Dumbledore softly. "You're in the Hospital Wing."

Aralynn was trying to jog her cloudy memory. "Down in the chamber… Quirrell… Voldemort…"

"Not to worry. Quirrell, and Voldemort, are gone. At least for now."

"Gone?"

"I arrived just in time to get Quirrell away from you and Harry. He has since been dealt with. I wasn't sure if the two of you had made it. The altercation nearly took your lives."

Aralynn rubbed her head. "The Stone?"

"Gone," said Dumbledore. "Destroyed."

Aralynn inhaled a shaky breath. "How did Harry get the Stone?"

Dumbledore smiled. "A creation of mine," he said. "It would only appear to a person who had no intentions of using it. Harry had no intention of using it. Instead, he wanted to protect it. I assume it would have come to you as well, if you had been in that situation."

Aralynn ran her fingers through her hair. She was thinking of everything that had been revealed to her in the chamber. "I suppose you know… that I've found the answers to why I've been feeling so out of place this past year."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I presumed that you were told. How does it make you feel, Aralynn… to know who you are, now—after all this time?"

"Sad," Aralynn answered honestly. "It's good to _know_. I finally feel… whole, but it makes me sad to know that my real parents are… dead."

Dumbledore smiled at her and laughed softly. "James and Lily may have been your biological family, Aralynn, but that doesn't make Arthur and Molly any less of your parents."

The girl smiled sheepishly at him. "Sir… Voldemort said he thought I was dead. How… I mean, why did…?"

The eldering man folded his hands in his lap. "Not many people knew that James and Lily had twins. They only shared the information with their deeply close friends. Arthur and Molly Weasley were some of those friends. It was discovered by Voldemort, clearly, when he came to kill you both. When you both survived, and I had to intervene, I tried my best to arrange it in a way that both of you would remain anonymous. That, however, did not work. Harry was the only one discovered, and while that made me hurt; I had to use it to my advantage. I let the people in Lily and James's lives believe that you had died, while Harry had lived. It was one way to keep you safe. I knew that your mother and father trusted Arthur and Molly quite well. Your appearance was… inspiration… enough to place you with them. You would quite easily pass as another Weasley child, and nobody would be the wiser."

"Why did they never tell me about who I was?" asked Aralynn.

"I asked them not to," said Dumbledore.

"They had to know that I would find out eventually."

Dumbledore nodded. He swept to the foot of her bed and sat upon the mattress. "We all knew you discover the truth in time. When that would happen was unknown, but until that time came, I asked for secrecy. They agreed."

Aralynn nodded. "Why, though, did you separate us—Harry and I?"

Dumbledore sighed sorrowfully. "For many reasons. The most prominent being because it was believed that you _had_ died. Given I kept you two together, that truth would have been revealed to the public, and the both of you would be in even more danger. Harry's life and existence were exposed, and so I sent him to live with his Muggle relatives, where he could stay unnoticed. They're your family, too, in fact. Harry's aunt, Petunia, is your mother's sister. Another reason I did so was because I thought it would be better for you two to stay apart. At least until you understood the truth of your lives… and your past."

Aralynn looked down at her hands. "Everyone will know now."

Dumbledore nodded. "That's true, but… now we are more prepared for the world to know that information. The opinions of others do not matter. What matters is your opinion of yourself."

The girl smiled at him. "After all these months of wrestling with myself, and who I felt I was _supposed_ to be… it's _relieving_ to know the truth. I… feel _free_ for the first time in a _long_ time." She hesitated. "Do Hermione and Ron know? About who I _really_ am?"

"They do. I took the liberty of telling them—I hope that does not bother you?"

Aralynn shook her head. "No, it doesn't… but what about Fred and George? Percy?"

"I think you've misunderstood," Dumbledore said with an amused lilt to his voice. "The whole school knows now, Miss... _Potter_. Secrets do not stay secrets very long in Hogwarts."

From Harry's bed came stirring. He was finally waking. He had sat up, trying to understand where he was, and then began to panic. "Sir! Quirrell has the Stone!"

Dumbledore raised his hands. "Easy, Harry. Relax, now. Quirrell does not have the Stone."

Harry appeared dumbfounded. "Then… who does?"

"Nobody," answered Dumbledore. "It has been destroyed."

The boy was relieved, only briefly, before he was horrified. "What about Mr. Flamel? Won't he and his wife die now?"

Dumbledore looked pleasantly surprised. "You know about Nicolas? How delightful. You truly put in your research… but not to worry, Harry. Nicolas and I had a long discussion about the Stone, and what should happen to it. We collectively decided that its destruction would be for the best. He has enough of the elixir to put his affairs in order. After that, yes… Nicolas and Perenelle _will _die."

"They've been around for so long…" Harry said, sadly.

The man stood and walked over to place a hand on Harry's shoulder. "To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel have lived quite a long and fruitful life. They will pass with the joy of memories… peacefully. In truth, the Philosopher's Stone was not such a gift. To live with endless life, and endless wealth… would, realistically, be a burden. We all have our time to pass, Harry. Humans are unfailingly selfish creatures—driven by greed. To possess an object with such power gives us a choice… to live within the margins that are given by life, or to cheat through it. We always tend to choose the option that is most detrimental to us."

Panic consumed Harry again. "Aralynn! She was down there with me! Professor, she's my sister! Is she—"

Dumbledore turned his head to Aralynn, who was looking at her brother. When Harry followed the man's gaze, he brightened. "Ara! You're okay!"

Aralynn nodded. "I am."

"Sir… how long have we been here?"

"Three days. Madam Pomfrey has been working tirelessly to heal you both."

Harry nodded. "And, Professor, if you don't mind… I have some questions."

"Ones I hope I can answer. If I cannot, I ask that you understand."

"Is he gone? Vol—You-Know-Who, I mean?"

"Call him by his name, Harry. His name is Voldemort. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself. To answer your question, no. He is not gone. In those last moments of Quirrell's life, Voldemort abandoned him. Which is only a testament to his character; the way he treats his faithful followers… the same as he treats those who would oppose him. The simple truth is that you and Aralynn have only managed to keep him at bay a little while longer. Perhaps he will not rise to power, should those around continue to force him back."

"Voldemort said that he only killed my—_our _—mother because she was protecting us… but _why_ would he want to kill us to begin with? We were only babies."

Dumbledore sighed. "That, Harry, is a question I cannot answer. At least not now."

Harry nodded slowly. "Then… why couldn't Quirrell bear to touch us?"

"Love," answered the man. "Your mother sacrificed her life to keep yours. The one thing that Voldemort will never be able to understand is _love_. Such sacrifice—such _selfless_ sacrifice—leaves its own mark. Not in the form of a scar, or blemish. It cannot be seen… only felt. It hides within you. In your very skin. To be loved so deeply, even by someone who has passed, will forever act as armor. At least, in some ways. Quirrell, and Voldemort both, who were consumed so deeply by hatred, would never be able to touch something so good and pure."

Aralynn pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat. It was at least one thing her mother had given her—the gift of her own life. Her eyes had welled with tears. _I love you, Mom,_ she thought.

Harry rubbed his hands together. "Who sent me the invisibility cloak?"

Dumbledore, who had taken to feeding seeds to a bird that landed in the windowsill, smiled at Harry. "I did. Your father left it in my possession. I figured it would do you well. Plus, it was not mine to keep."

Aralynn had gotten out of bed. She tapped Harry's arm, who moved over. She joined him and sat at his side, grinning at him. He smiled back and watched Dumbledore. "Quirrell said that Snape—"

"_Professor_ Snape."

"Right," said Harry quickly and dismissively. "Well, Quirrell said that he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?"

"Well, it's no secret that your father and Professor Snape had quite a tumultuous relationship. They disliked each other quite a bit. Similar to the relationship you have with Mr. Malfoy, in fact."

"Why doesn't he hate Aralynn, then?"

Dumbledore fingered his beard. "Another question that will be answered with time."

Aralynn patted Harry's hand. It would be okay if she never knew.

"Your father, also, did something that Severus could never forgive."

Harry blinked. "What was it?"

Dumbledore turned to him. "Saved his life."

"_What?_"

The man came traipsing back over to them. He was studying the sweets that they had received. "For Severus, it was prudent that the debt be repaid. I presume that is why he worked so hard to protect you this year. That way, once the obligation had been fulfilled, he could return to despising your father's memory without any strings… in peace."

As Harry was asking his final questions, Aralynn had noticed that the scrapbook Ron had given her for their birthday was sitting on the bedside table. She grabbed it and opened it in her lap. She flipped through the pages, glancing at the photographs that she had taken before, and after, they started Hogwarts. She had done her best to keep up with taking pictures, but she had, admittedly, gotten sidetracked. Her first year at Hogwarts was definitely rough. She came to the last page, and nearly burst into tears. Enchanted to stick to the paper was a photograph of James and Lily. They were sitting on a couch, laughing and holding hands. A cat came prancing along the top of it. There was a folded-up piece of parchment underneath it. Aralynn unstuck it from the page.

* * *

'_Ara,_

_Professor Dumbledore gave me this photograph after he told me and Hermione that you and Harry are actually twins. He asked me to give it to you, so that you would have a memory of your parents. I decided that it would be best to put it in here. It'll really add to your collection, even though you weren't the one to take the picture. I thought it would be something you would like to have. I hope I'm right._

_Just so you know, I'm not mad at you. It's okay that we're not actually twins, or even siblings. Either way, you're still family. I guess we can't celebrate our birthdays together anymore, since your real birthday is in July. You've had the wrong age this whole time, isn't that weird? I guess I am the old one after all._

_Anyway, I wanted to thank you for being part of my life. It would be really weird if you hadn't been given to Mum and Dad to raise. You might not be my sister, but I still love you._

_I hope you continue living with us at The Burrow._

_Glad you didn't die, _

_Ron._'

* * *

She smiled softly at his chicken scratch handwriting and tucked the note into her pocket. She ran her fingers, very gently, over the photograph of her mother and father. She hoped that she would be able to attain more pictures of them one day. When Dumbledore and Harry had finished their conversation, Dumbledore ambled over to their table of snacks. He was eyeing a package of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"You two had best not let these sweets go to waste. They're tokens from your friends and fans!" Dumbledore picked up the box of Beans. "I was most unfortunate to come across a vomit-flavored bean in my youth. Quite traumatizing, really. Since then, I have lost my liking for them, but I suppose, I could fair to try again. Toffee would be nice, don't you think?"

He plucked a golden-brown bean from the box. He turned it over in his hand, examining it. He then popped it into his mouth. He perked up. "Alas! Earwax!" He then set the box down and rounded away. "I must take my leave now. Do try and get better quickly. I would hate to have you both miss the end of year feast."

When Dumbledore left, Aralynn laid her head on Harry's shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, resting his cheek on her head. "Harry?" asked Aralynn. "Did you have any idea that we could be twins?"

"None," Harry laughed. "I didn't even know you had a scar, too."

"I've done my best to hide it all year."

"Why?"

Aralynn shrugged. "It scared me a little bit to think that we had identical scars. Especially when I didn't know why. I've been wrestling with myself all year, trying to figure out why I felt so… misplaced."

Harry glanced to her. "Is that why you would go quiet? Why you avoided me after what happened in the forest?"

Aralynn nodded. "I was scared and confused. Especially after the—"

"Forcefield," answered Harry. "The connection we made?"

Aralynn lifted her head. "You noticed?"

"Of course," he said. "I just… didn't have much room in my head to really think about it. Hey—how did you get through the black flames, anyway?"

"There was a very tiny amount of potion left in the vial after you drank it. I mixed it with one of the bottles of nettle wine. Hermione and I came up with the idea. It worked—for a second. Just enough time for me to get through."

Harry laughed. "Brilliant."

* * *

After a few hours passed, Ron and Hermione came by the Hospital Wing for a visit. Madam Pomfrey, at first, wouldn't allow it. She insisted that the twins needed as much rest as they could get, but they still managed to change her mind. Perhaps with Ron's overly-loud statement of, "She was _my_ twin first!" She allowed for them to come inside. They came running over to greet their friends. Ron hugged Aralynn and almost squished her to death. Hermione did the same, but much gentler. They sat on the side of the bed Harry and Aralynn were both in.

"We're so glad to see that you're both okay," said Hermione. "We were worried. You guys were out for three whole days. Ron was worried that you were in a coma."

Ron went red. "Yeah, well… it was a long time to be out…"

Aralynn chuckled. "Not to worry, Ron. We're awake now."

"Did you get my note?"

She nodded. "I did. Thank you."

"So, what happened?" asked Hermione. "Down in the chamber?"

Harry looked over to Aralynn. "Well, we were pretty shocked to find out that it was Quirrell who was trying to get the Stone instead of Snape. He knew the mirror was the last test, but he didn't know how it would work. Voldemort was there."

Hermione gasped. "He _was_?"

"Sort of," said Aralynn. "He had to live off of Quirrell. So, really, he was only a face on the back of his head."

Ron grimaced. "That explains the turban."

Harry nodded. "He called me over to ask me what I saw in the mirror. I lied to him and told him what you told me, Ron. About winning the House Cup. Really, I saw myself with the Stone. My reflection put it in my pocket and… there it was. Voldemort knew better, though. He said I was lying. Wanted to talk to me."

"That's when he told me the truth… about who I am," said Aralynn.

"He wanted me… or, I guess, _us_—to join him. Couldn't do that, though, could we?"

Aralynn shook her head. "Then he tried to kill us."

"Only—he couldn't touch us," Harry explained. "It made him blister. Dumbledore said it's because our mother sacrificed her life for ours. It protected us in some way."

Ron tilted his head. "What about the Stone?"

"It was destroyed," answered Aralynn.

Hermione frowned. "That's it, then? Nicolas and Perenelle will die?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Dumbledore said… what was it, Ara?"

"'To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'"

"Totally off his rocker," said Ron, but admiringly.

"He also was the one who gave me the cloak," said Harry.

Ron pursed his lips thoughtfully. "D'you think he meant for all of this to happen?"

Hermione huffed. "That would be really cruel. They could have died!"

"Dumbledore knows everything that happens in the school," Harry told them. "So, yeah, I think he meant for this all to happen, but he never would've let anything happen to us. It was all planned in some way, I think. He wanted me, maybe even us, since Aralynn knew; how the mirror worked. He's a brilliant man."

"You guys _have_ to come to the feast tomorrow," said Ron, who, clearly, was no longer interested in hearing about their close brush with death. "The points have been tallied. Of course, Slytherin won. You also missed the last Quidditch game, and Ravenclaw totally flattened us. That's okay, though, because we'll be there, and we know the food will be good."

Aralynn looked up. "How did I do on exams?"

"_Really_ well," answered Hermione. "You aced them, of course."

Aralynn chuckled. "Who came out on top?"

Hermione flushed. "I did… but don't be upset! You were behind by only a few marks."

"I'm not upset, Hermione. I'm _really_ proud of you. You deserve it."

Madam Pomfrey came bustling over and kicked Ron and Hermione out of the Hospital Wing. They had had enough time in her eyes, and now the Potter twins needed to get some rest. Which, they did. Aralynn, however, refused to leave Harry's bed. It felt wrong to be separated from him after she had only _just_ discovered him. They slept together, curled up in the bed Harry had been in. For the first time since September, Aralynn slept really well. She didn't have a single nightmare.

* * *

Hagrid had come to visit them the next morning. He was a complete wreck—just sobbing uncontrollably. He had felt responsible for Quirrell and Voldemort's success in accessing the Philosopher's Stone. He kept talking about how much he hated himself for telling the 'ruddy git' how to get past Fluffy. Aralynn and Harry assured him that it wasn't his fault, and that they were bound to find out one way or another. While he was there, he had gifted each of them beautiful leather journals—in the journals were photographs of their parents. He knew that they didn't have any real memories of Lily and James, and that they deserved to. He even went on to explain that he knew, all along, that Aralynn was Harry's twin. He had been the one to deliver Aralynn to Arthur and Molly Weasley. Aralynn thanked him for that.

When it came time for the feast, Madam Pomfrey cleared them to go, if only because Dumbledore said that they were allowed to attend. They changed into their school robes and headed down to the Great Hall. They walked side-by-side, thinking of all the adventures they had experienced in their first year at Hogwarts. They were sad for it end.

"It'll be weird to go home," Harry said to his sister. "After everything that has happened, I feel like Hogwarts I where I belong. It'll be especially strange… considering you're my sister and we won't be together."

Aralynn nodded. "I know. It's sad, but… at least we still have each other—no matter what."

"D'you reckon I should tell Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon that you're alive?"

Aralynn laughed. "Oh, Harry. I have _no_ idea."

The Great Hall was full by the time they walked through the doors. The room was decorated in honor of Slytherin's victory in winning the House Cup. No matter where they turned, there was always a combination of green and silver. Behind the High Table was a massive banner of a serpent—Slytherin House's crest. The sight of the hall definitely made them unhappy. They felt extremely guilty for contributing so heavily to Gryffindor's loss.

When the students noticed they had entered, the room fell silent. They walked to their table together and took seats near Ron and Hermione. People were actually standing in their seats to get a look at them. It made them uncomfortable. Fred and George skirted over, kissing each side of Aralynn's head.

"Nice to have you back," whispered George.

"_Potter_," added Fred. They winked at her.

Aralynn was smiling when they returned to their seats. Chatter about the discovery of a second Potter was filling the halls. They only went quiet when Dumbledore approached the podium to speak to them all.

"Alas, another year has gone and passed," he said loudly, for everyone to hear. "Before we can devour our delicious meals, I ask that you bear an old man and his banter. I hope this year was successful for you. I hope you gained new friends, absorbed more knowledge, and learned some valuable lessons about life and yourselves. Try not to keep your minds too full over the summer—we need an empty slate to pour more information into for the next year. Now—the House Cup needs to be awarded. As I understand the points, our order follows as: Gryffindor in fourth place with three hundred and twelve points. In third, Hufflepuff with three hundred and fifty-two points. Ravenclaw, second, with four hundred and twenty-six points. Finally, Slytherin, in first place, with four hundred and seventy-two."

The Slytherin students cheered quite loudly… arrogantly, too. It seemed to directed at Gryffindor. Aralynn grimaced at the sight of Malfoy banging his goblet erratically on the table.

"Yes, yes—well done, Slytherin! However, some last minutes tallies must be accounted for…" The Slytherins went deadly silent. They stared at Dumbledore. "Firstly, to Mr. Ronald Weasley – for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years; I award Gryffindor fifty points."

Percy, in the background, was gloating about his youngest brother getting past McGonagall's enchanted chess set.

"Second—to Miss Hermione Granger—for the use of cool logic in the face of fire; I award Gryffindor fifty points."

Aralynn reached over to pat Hermione's hand and smile at her.

"Third – to Miss Aralynn _Potter_. For forcing bravery and normalcy in lieu of unknowing… I award Gryffindor fifty points."

The Weasley twins shook Aralynn as they howled.

"To Mr. Harry Potter—for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor sixty points."

"We've beat Slytherin!" Hermione whispered excitedly.

The chatter started up again until Dumbledore raised his hand. "Now, there are all kinds of courage… and it takes a great deal to stand up to those who hurt us… and just as much to stand up to our friends. Therefore, I award Mr. Neville Longbottom ten points."

While they knew that Slytherin had been beaten before then—Neville's awarded points really just solidified it. Gryffindor students began piling on top of the boy who looked absolutely terrified. Dumbledore, who was laughing cheerfully, clapped his hands. The nauseating ocean of green and silver disappeared. The room, instead, warmed with scarlet and gold. Gryffindor had won the House Cup! McGonagall was nearly—no, _actually_—dancing.

That night in the Great Hall was, by far, the best night that Aralynn had had since she came to Hogwarts. While she knew she would miss the school, her brother, and her friends—she was quite glad to have the traumatizing ordeal of events behind her. She vowed that her first year would _have_ to be the worst year she would ever experience at Hogwarts. There was no way she was going to allow her life to be as miserable as it had been _ever_ again.

Before they knew it; their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, information for owls were exchanged, and goodbyes were said. They had boarded the train, laughed and cried while they traveled back to King's Cross Station, and said their final partings to their completed year of schooling. They even discussed what kind of magic they would be doing outside of school, given they were allowed. Once they had arrived at King's Cross Station, they all began to exit the train and platform. They, of course, had to go slowly so that Muggles wouldn't be alerted by the dozens of children appearing from a column.

Ron was telling Harry and Hermione that they absolutely needed to come and stay at The Burrow over the summer. Aralynn agreed that they should, but if they couldn't, they still _needed_ to keep in touch. They exited the barrier, where they heard someone excitedly shouting Harry's name. It was Ginny Weasley.

They wandered over to Molly Weasley. She was smiling dearly at them. "Busy year, dears?"

Harry laughed. "You have no idea. Thanks, again, for the fudge and sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

She reached out to touch his hair. "Oh, it's my pleasure, dear."

A large, purple-faced mustached man came over to Harry. Behind him was a skinny, long-necked blonde woman and equally as large pink-faced blond boy. Aralynn assumed that these people were Harry's—well, _her_—family. "Ready, then, are you?" asked Vernon Dursley, rather impatiently.

Molly perked up. "You must be Harry's family!"

Vernon grumbled. "I suppose…" he said. Aralynn was leaning over and looking at him. He seemed to be quite alarmed. "Petunia—is that…? _PETUNIA!_"

Petunia Dursley startled. When she looked at Aralynn, she nearly fainted. "You—but—no—how—Lily—"

Aralynn nodded slowly. "It's true. Not to worry, though. You won't have a second Potter plaguing your cupboard under the stairs."

Molly Weasley looked furious. "_Cupboard?_"

With that, the Dursleys hurried and pulled Harry away. Harry had turned and said goodbye to them. Before they could walk too far, he ran back and wrapped his arms tightly around Aralynn. He held her close, sounding as though he were sniffling. "I'll miss you, Ara."

Aralynn smiled slightly. "I'll miss you, too, Harry. Don't worry. I won't stop being your sister over the summer."

Harry only finally wandered off when Vernon came to drag him away by the collar.

When Harry was out of sight, Aralynn walked with the Weasleys—who were still very much her family—to the Ford Anglia that was parked outside. Before they got into the car, Aralynn forced herself into Molly Weasley's arms. The woman stroked her hair. "What is it, dear?"

"I just wanted to thank you," said Aralynn, looking up at her. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore has told you that I know now, and… I wanted to sincerely tell you how grateful I am to you. Thank you _so_ much for taking me in… Thank you for being my mother."

Molly Weasley was now blubbering like a baby. She kissed Aralynn several times on the cheek. When they were done, they filed into the car and set off to return back to their odd, misshapen house. The house Aralynn had missed so much.

Sitting next to Ron, Aralynn stared out the window. Once they took flight, she studied the way the clouds looked from above. She rested her chin on the side of the car, smiling to herself. She no longer needed to question who she was. It was an immaculate feeling to _finally_ know the truth—to finally have _answers_. She knew exactly who she was.

Aralynn Nicole Potter.


End file.
